Revelation of a Nightmare
by Cerulean-Searoach
Summary: Its after the Dark Tournament, and, not surprisingly, Kurama is having nightmares. Remarkable to Hiei, however, is what Kurama's episodes reveal about his family...and just how much they know about the masquerading demon. (language, adult themes)
1. The Nightmare

A/N: This is my first YYH fic (not to mention my first stab at posting something on fanfiction.net), so here's hoping it goes well. Sorry to disappoint all the YAOI fangirls out there.

Disclaimer: Yu Yu Hakusho: I think it goes without saying I don't own it. Which is a good thing for me—I don't think I could live up the scrutiny and pressure from all the drooling fans out there (myself included). I also apologize in advance if the thread inspiring this story is overused.

Shameless solicitation for information: Having only seen some of the anime, and very little of the manga (we're still on the Spirit Beasts here), I need fellow fans to fill in the gaps for me. When did Kurama's mom remarry? What's his stepfather's name (family and given)? I think his stepbrother is also named Shuichi, right? Anybody know his age? General descriptions of either would also be appreciated—I kind of need the information for the story to continue. Its not crucial, but it would be helpful. Thanks!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Flitting from tree to tree, he raced forward with the singular purpose of simply reaching his destination. If he hesitated to actually think about why he was going, he would reconsider his actions and abandon the journey. It would not be cold tonight—in fact, nights were pleasantly cool this time of the year. Not a could in the sky threatened rain. There was no need to seek shelter. Yet the window would still be open.

Truth be told, he didn't know why he was going, really.

Dusk had already settled over the sleepy city like a thick plushy blanket. Soon it would be dark. He actually preferred to travel in the dark—less chance for him to be seen. As it was, he amused himself with the stupid humans' vapid looks when they glanced in his direction, having felt their hair ruffled by an unnatural, otherworldly breeze as he passed over their heads. The quick ones might think they caught a glimpse of something black…something large…a bird they must have startled from its nesting place. A crow, perhaps.

Hiei stopped. Crow. That simple image had taken on a much more nightmarish connotation since the end of the Dark Tournament. For all of them. More so for Kurama, though he'd never admit it. But Hiei had seen it in his eyes—a haunted look rippling just under the surface of conscious thought. Then again, Kurama's eyes **always** had a sort of haunted, contemplative look.

Kurama had once told Hiei that humans had a saying: "The eyes are the window to the soul." Kurama's window—just like the one in his bedroom—was always open. If just a little cloudy. The sins of a past life… Not that the had anything of which to be ashamed. He was a demon, after all. And a damn good one at that. You didn't live to be as old as Youko Kurama without some...talent. Hiei hoped he could live half as long…

"Look, Mommy! There's a man in that tree!"

Shaken from his reverie, Hiei cursed. Stupid humans. Couldn't they see he was trying to think? Why had he let his mind get so off-track in the first place? With another muttered curse, he sped off towards Kurama's house again, the whispering breeze drifting a soft "I'm sure it was a bird…" to his ears. He smirked. Idiots. Had they truly known…

The breeze whipped pleasantly through his hair, rippling his heavy black cloak as he quickened his pace. Running was one of his few pleasures in life. The air rushing past him…the wind at his back…it was as close to flying as he'd ever come. Well, except for sailing through the air after taking a blow from an opponent. That was an entirely different kind of masochistic pleasure, though.

Then, almost as suddenly as it started, it was over. Hiei blinked. He had already arrived at the crossroads to Kurama's street. Glancing down the road, he saw "Minamino Shuichi's" residence. Light radiated out of the downstairs windows. The family was still up. The upper level was dark. Easy enough to slip in and wait.

A few quick leaps, and Hiei was perched in his favorite tree outside Kurama's home. He eased himself down the branch that took him to the fox demon's window. It was dark. Odd…Kurama would usually be in his room piddling away at his human busy work—"homework" he called it—at this time. But the window was still cracked open. Enough for Hiei to slide his fingers in, push it up and enter. _Heh…always open…_

Just to be on the safe side, lest a family member was in "Shuichi's" room, Hiei pressed his face to the glass and peered inside.

Kurama **was** in his room—already in bed, no less, his back to the window. Hiei scowled. Kurama never turned in this early. _Lazy fox…_ He raised a finger to tap on the glass then reconsidered. After all, he had no point being here. No mission. No news. No need. Why had he bothered coming? His scowl deepened. He had been spending way too much time with these stupid humans and their incessant, trifling nee for companionship—it was starting to rub off on him. Like some sort of nasty human virus he had suddenly caught. And his immunity was slowly breaking down. Pathetic.

Disgusted with himself, Hiei turned to leave and seek shelter for the night when a sudden spike in energy from Kurama caught his attention. Curious, he pressed his nose back to the window.

Kurama had rolled onto his back, giving Hiei a better view of the sleeping fox demon. The pale sliver of silver moonlight cascading through the open window illuminated his elegant features. His eyelids fluttered slightly—barely perceptible even to Hiei's keen demon eyesight—and his eyes darted back and forth under them.

Hiei smirked. Kurama was dreaming—perhaps of the exploits of a lifetime ago…or of those to come… That was the energy he sensed.

It spiked again, followed by a quick gasp. Kurama's fingers curled, clutching his sheets protectively.

He wasn't dreaming…he was having a nightmare.

It wasn't unexpected—Hiei had to confess, if he were being completely honest with himself, that he had his fair share of nightmares since the Dark Tournament ended. Not that anybody else needed to know that. Especially that idiot Kuwabara. And, admittedly, Yuske and Kurama had taken the brunt of the difficult battles. Particularly Kurama's battle against—

"Karasu…" the word escaped as a whimper from Kurama's lips. "No…" he moaned. Beads of sweat broke out along his brow. His breath quickened to shallow, labored gasps for precious air.

Damn him. Hiei spat. Even in death, Karasu haunted Kurama. He had been a formidable opponent, to be sure, and had succeeded where no other had. Karasu had gotten past Kurama's steely intellect and invaded—no, raped—his mind…toyed with him…teased him with stomach-churning homoerotic threats of "love" and placing Kurama at his side forever. All while slowly, methodically torturing Kurama's physical human body to death. Though Kurama was unwilling—or unable—to admit it, Hiei knew Karasu had shaken Kurama's human heart to the core, wounding him much deeper than just simply scratching his youko pride. But Kurama still defeated him—a testament to his strength and intellect—and had overcome. Hadn't he?

Then again, Hiei wasn't so sure even **he** would have overcome that.

Another small whimper caught in Kurama's throat. He whipped his head to the side, plastering some of the finer strands of his crimson hair against his sweat-drenched forehead. His knuckles were turning white from gripping his covers tightly. _Wake up_, Hiei mentally urged, wondering if he should enter Kurama's room and wake him. It suddenly reminded him of another human saying Kurama shared with him: "Let sleeping dogs lie." Why? What kind of moronic human advice was tat? Foxes were dogs of sorts…would that apply here?

Kurama convulsed, tossing restlessly in his sleep as Hiei watched in morbid fascination. The redhead's limbs thrashed, tangling among the sheets. His energy climbed, building into a slow boil. Unusually—and dangerously—high for someone asleep.

Enough of this, Hiei finally scolded himself. _I suppose I'll have to wake him before he hurts himself, _he tried to convince himself he was more annoyed than actually concerned. Frowning slightly, he slid his fingers under the window.

"No!" Kurama yelped, one arm swinging out wildly. His hand made contact with the objects on his night table, sending his alarm clock crashing to the floor with a dull thud. Something else—a drinking glass, perhaps?—soon followed, shattering merrily.

Hiei froze. Someone was bound to have heard that.

Sure enough… "Shuichi?" his mother's concerned voice echoed from downstairs.

Hiei hissed. He couldn't be seen. If he were, the stupid humans might mistake him for a petty burglar. As if any of their paltry valuables were even worth his effort…

Withdrawing into the tree, Hiei resigned himself to the fact Kurama would have to contend with his own personal demons…at least, for tonight. He prepared to leave when an abrupt explosion of mental energy scratched across the surface of his mind, inexplicably chilling him to the bone and firmly rooting him to his hiding spot.

Kurama bolted upright, screaming.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So…do you like? Do you hate? Please let me know!

I am a very slow writer, so please be patient with my updates. I swear this story is finished in my mind—I just need to find time to get it all down on paper.

Thanky-vous!


	2. Comfort

Okay…finally got this posted!

Thanks to all to read and reviewed chapter 1 and those who read and reviewed the preview of chapter 2 I posted a few weeks ago. Sorry to keep you waiting for the rest of it--life kept getting in the way, and then this chapter seemed to take on a life of it's own and kept getting longer and longer. Hope it was worth the wait. If not, I'm sure you will let me know. J

Please let me know if I got any of the details wrong (ie: does the canon refer to Kurama's stepfather as "Kazuya" or "Hatanaka?"). I decided to nix any use of honorifics or popular Japanese reference phrases, simply because I wouldn't want to screw them up. I also nixed different spellings for Kurama as Shuichi and his stepbrother Shuichi because you're all pretty intelligent and can figure it out for yourselves. And, if you can't, that means I've done a lousy job as a writer distinguishing between the two. J

* * *

It was the most primal, gut-wrenching scream Hiei had ever heard escape from Kurama's lips, save the ones that ripped through him as Karasu ripped him apart. The pitiful cry, combined with the spiritual energy emanating from Kurama tore through Hiei with a chilling, cringe-inducing jolt. In the past, Kurama had once described a similar feeling as "fingernails on a chalkboard." Hiei didn't know exactly what that meant—merely that it was vaguely uncomfortable, creating a feeling of someone running a claw down his spinal column and causing his flesh to prickle.

Kurama's hands flew to his mouth to stifle the sound as his scream gave way to heavy gasping, and, finally, guttural sobs welling up from deep within him. He was trembling from head to toe and drew his knees to his chest. Through the tears, Hiei thought he saw Kurama's pained eyes flash gold, only intensifying his distress. His youko soul was fighting to regain some control and composure. But, apparently, demon pride and years of experience were not enough to soothe the terror in a 15 year-old human heart. For the first time, Hiei actually saw Kurama for the human child he was. Kurama was so…_young_… They all were. Hiei would have snorted in disgust had he not been so…concerned.

After all, Kurama was the cool intellect of the team, the stoic strategist…he was the pillar of the group. And that pillar was crumbling. Would the rest of the structure come crashing down around them as a result? If Kurama couldn't handle his nightmares and flashbacks, what would happen to the rest of them as their own nightmares threatened to overtake them?

__

I should go…Kurama wouldn't want to be seen like this… Hiei's mind was willing to retreat and give Kurama some privacy; his feet, however, disobeyed, curiosity overriding his rationale. Even worse, they were leading him closer to the window instead of away from it.

A light flickered on in the hallway outside of Kurama's room. Finally, Hiei's feet came to their senses and swiftly returned him to his hiding place. Hiei had just nestled in among the leaves and Kurama was still struggling to control his tears—futilely wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his pajamas—when a silhouette darkened his door.

"Shuichi!" his mother gasped. She rushed into the room, her bathrobe fluttering behind her like a giant gossamer butterfly. "Oh, Shuichi…" she sighed, cradling his face in her hands, "you're shaking like a leaf!" Sitting on the edge of the bed, Shiori tenderly brushed Kurama's hair out of his face. "Another nightmare?"

By now, Kurama had restrained himself enough that his sobs were tapering off into spastic sniffles. The blood rose to his ashy cheeks as his glassy green eyes dropped in shame, unable to meet Shiori's prying gaze. He nodded weakly. "S-sorry," he stammered through sniffles, "I-I d-didn't m-mean to w-wake you…"

"Shhhh…." Shiori whispered, "I was still up anyway." She kissed the top of his head, pulling him into a tight embrace. Kurama's head dropped against her shoulder, wetting it with fresh, silent tears. "Shhhh…" she repeated reassuringly, stroking his hair and gently rocking him. Kurama relented and melted into her embrace. He wrapped his arms around his mother, clinging to her as if his life depended on it.

Hiei scoffed. How easily Kurama had fallen into his mother's arms. It was almost like she had cast some sort of magical enchantment over him. Did she? Humans did not usually possess such abilities. Kurama had explained that it was love that bound him so intrinsically to his mother. Hiei sneered. Love was not compelling magic…was it? No, he reasoned, it was an emotion. Emotions were for the weak. Though certainly not weak, Kurama had _allowed_ this…hug…to happen. He welcomed it, even. He would need to harden his heart in preparation for his eventual return to the Makai. Wearing one's heart on one's sleeve was a liability—usually a fatal one.

And yet, Hiei's own heart felt an unfamiliar stab while watching the scene unfold before him. Shiori holding her son…it seemed to calm Kurama somewhat…a mother's touch…that pang again…a yearning…was that jealousy? Longing?

Quickly pushing such worthless thoughts from his mind, Hiei turned his attention, instead, to the new shadow that eclipsed Kurama's doorway. He was just beginning to make out its features when said shadow flipped on the light switch, assaulting his eyes with sudden blinding brightness. Hiei recoiled from the burning artificial daylight, losing his balance and nearly falling out of the tree as a result. Stifling a curse, he remounted his branch, rubbing his watering, stinging eyes. _Damn humans and their feeble, light-craving eyesight…_

"Shiori?" Kurama's stepfather—Hatanaka Kazuya—asked from the door, hedging into the room, "Is everything alright?"

"Another nightmare," she quietly explained as he gingerly stepped over the broken glass on the floor. Pausing briefly, he stooped over and plucked something off the ground. Hiei craned his neck to see. Kazuya set a wilting rose on the nightstand. The rose's vase must have been the object Kurama knocked over moments ago.

"I see…" Kazuya sat next to Shiori on the bed. He placed one reassuring hand on his stepson's back and wrapped the other around his wife. "He's still shaking…must have been bad…" He rubbed Kurama's back comfortingly.

Shiori only sighed in response, burying another kiss in Kurama's hair. She looked like she was about to cry herself. A certain weariness settled upon her—apparently, this had been going on for some time. _Probably several weeks—since the tournament ended, _Hiei surmised.

"I'd have nightmares, too, if the dark man hung outside my window every night."

Four heads—three inside the room, one outside—snapped to stare at the young man perched in the doorway. Kurama's younger stepbrother—_Shuichi…just like Kurama's human name…right?_—looked slightly disheveled, as if he had just crawled out of bed, appearing more curiously annoyed than scared at the thought of the "dark man."

"Dark man?" Shiori blinked, dumbfounded, still keeping her arms circled tightly around her son.

The younger teen frowned. "Yeah…he's short…spiky hair…wears all black…with red eyes. I've seen him."

Kurama's eyes flitted nervously to the window. Hiei was pretty sure Kurama couldn't see him, but he might have sensed him by now. He quickly tried to mask his spirit energy—he didn't want his presence known. "Voyeur" was one thing he didn't need to add to his already lengthy list of faults. Yet he stayed…

The glassy orbs flickered with recognition, then dulled as a puzzled expression crossed Kurama's face. He **had** sensed him—if only briefly. Hiei could feel Kurama reaching out with his mind, blindly groping for the presence of the fire demon, checking to see if it had been a figment of his imagination.

"…right Shuichi?" his stepbrother finished, interrupting the fox's search.

"Huh?"

"The little dark guy—at your window—you **had** to have seen him. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

"No…I'm sorry…I don't know what you're talking about," Kurama lied, his usual veil of youko calm finally descending over his features and masking the turbulent storm brewing behind his emerald eyes. The change didn't go unnoticed by his mother, who tensed as her son withdrew into himself.

"His name is Karasu," Shuichi pressed, unconvinced, "I've heard that name. You cry it out in your sleep…"

Hiei growled. He wasn't sure whether he should be impressed by the young man's perceptiveness or insulted that he had been mistaken for that…that demonic bastard. _Insulted…definitely insulted._

"He frightens you." Completely tactless and naïve. Nonetheless, his voice brimmed with concern.

Kurama's composure fractured. He visibly blanched several shades at the mention of _that name_ and his eyes clouded over. Slender fingers reflexively clenched the folds of Shiori's bathrobe as his hands began trembling again and his voice faltered. "I…"

"Enough," Kazuya gently rebuked, rising and approaching his son, "you're upsetting your brother." He chuckled, "Your imagination these days. Really. C'mon…back to bed with you." He placed his hands on Shuichi's shoulders and began steering the boy back to his room.

"But…"

"No butts," Kazuya playfully swatted the teen's behind for emphasis, propelling the boy towards his room, "Back to bed. Now."

"Dad!"

__

Ah…the exasperated, melodramatic sign of teenage disgust… Hiei had heard that tone of voice from Yusuke and Kuwabara enough times to…really…_loathe_…it. It was grating.

Their father/son banter continued down the hall, out of earshot. Moments later, Kazuya reappeared in the door. "I…uh…hmm…perhaps I should get Shuichi something do drink. Juice?" The question, oddly enough, was directed at Shiori, not Kurama. Meaningful glances passed between the two adults, followed by a slight nod of Shiori's head. Parental concern? Or something more?

"No, thank y—"

"It'll do you some good," Shiori coaxed, "I can tell your throat is sore."

Kurama glanced uncertainly between his mother and stepfather. _Good…he knows they may be up to something…_ Hiei mused.

"Um…o-okay…" he hesitantly agreed.

__

Or maybe not. Stupid fox. Then again, Kurama probably knew his parents better then Hiei did.

Kazuya disappeared again, his heavy footfalls thudding down the stairs. An awkward silence settled between mother and son. So awkward, in fact, that it even made Hiei feel vaguely unsettled. No…this feeling was something else. Something that always made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end.

He was being watched.

Hiei's head snapped in the direction of the other window on the second floor—Shuichi's bedroom.

Hands parted the blinds, revealing nothing but a set of inquisitive eyes peering into the darkness outside. They eyes narrowed, focusing on Hiei's tree.

__

Damn! Hiei's heart skipped a beat and landed squarely in the pit of his stomach. Had he been seen? Sure, he could make his get away fast enough, but there would be questions. He could just envision Kurama's eyes dancing with wry amusement as he asked, "Hiei, have you been spying on me?" Even worse, the questions Kurama might have to answer to his family—or the authorities. "Dark men" were usually not welcome snooping around people's houses at night and often resulted in calls to the police. Questions. Investigations. Stepped up neighborhood patrols. It would be more difficult to visit. Hiei's train of thought abruptly slammed on the brakes. Did he actually feel himself…_caring_…that he would not be able to visit Kurama? For what seemed like the hundredth time tonight, he found himself cursing this growing weakness his association with humans had spawned in him.

The eyes in the blinds shifted, travelling further up the tree.

Hiei released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Shuichi had not spotted him. At least, not yet.

"Shuichi, go to sleep!"

The blinds clapped shut, followed by the thumping of juvenile feet rushing back to bed. Heavier, slower footfalls replaced the scurrying patter, tracking Kazuya's return down the hall.

"Okay…here we go," he announced his return, drawing Hiei's attention back to Kurama's room. "We only had apple juice. I know it's not your favorite—"

"It's okay," Kurama smiled faintly as he took the glass from his stepfather. His hands were still shaking badly, causing the liquid to splash precariously in the cup. Kazuya sat next to Kurama and wrapped his hands around Kurama's, steadying Kurama's grip and pressing the glass to his lips.

Sipping gingerly, Kurama grimaced. "It's bitter," he complained.

"More so than usual?" his mother asked.

"No…I guess not…" Kurama did not seem to notice their nervous, passing glances—or pretended not to—as he finished off the juice.

But Hiei **did** notice. And, what's more, he noticed the dregs of juice in Kurama's glass appeared…gritty. Granted, he did not know much about human food, but he understood enough to know that most juice certainly did not contain granules.

Kurama handed the glass back to his stepfather and folded his hands in his lap. Kazuya went to place the glass on the nightstand. Spying the wilting rose and shattered vase on the floor again, he wisely moved the cup to the far side of the table, out of Kurama's reach.

Sighing, Kurama just sat and stared at his hands. After what seemed like an eternity of silence—broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric and the ticking of Kurama's clock—Shiori finally mustered the courage to attempt a conversation about the situation.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No…" Kurama muttered, continuing to stare at his hands and twisting the folds of his sheets. "It's nothing," he added as an afterthought.

"Shuichi…"

"No, really…" he blinked heavily. His eyelids dragged across his glassy eyes, as if it were an effort to open them.

"Shuichi, please…" his stepfather's voice was low, comforting, "your mother and I are worried. You haven't been sleeping well for weeks. Barely eating. Your grades are slipping. It's not like you."

"Even your garden's dying," his mother added, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears and lovingly running her fingers through his locks. "Please…Shuichi…you can talk to us…"

"No…" he sighed—almost whimpered—"I…can't…" His brows knit together in frustration. Hiei could see the anguish written across Kurama's face as clearly as writing in a book. It was a struggle with which Hiei was all too familiar—a struggle starting to take its toll. _The_ secret. A secret so intrinsic to the very fiber of his being that revealing it would change the foundation of his life—and the lives of those he sought to protect—forever. The desire to reveal everything was often explosively agonizing to contain. And draining. Constantly on guard, lest the wrong words accidentally slip from your lips…the wrong habits manifest themselves in your acts… Vigilantly prohibiting anything that may give your secret the power it needs to shatter your carefully constructed walls—your dam—swamping the floodgates of your life. Barely keeping your head above water, yet drowning all the same.

Only the fear of rejection—the possible torment that awaited—was worse.

__

Yukina…

Shiori…

Hiei shuddered. He only had to confront these demons on the rare occasion he and the others encountered Yukina. Kurama had to live it. Daily.

"Shuichi…who is Karasu?" his mother pressed, "what did he do to you?"

Kurama's sharp intake of breath startled all of them—even Hiei. "I…can't…" he repeated laboriously, his voice—and possibly his resolve—wavering.

There was something else behind those tumultuous green eyes. Something…"not right…" was the only way Hiei could describe it. More than the nightmares…the memories…his secret life…something more was working against him.

Something unnatural.

Hiei could sense it slowly siphoning off Kurama's energy, dulling his senses, weighing down his limbs. He knew Kurama felt it too—his anxiety flashed across Hiei's consciousness as Kurama attempted to fight off the fatigue slowly overtaking him.

Growling, Hiei scanned the area. He felt no unfamiliar energy—no demonic presence—that could be responsible. Yet something obviously was draining Kurama. If not auras, energy fields or other demons, then what?

"My…head…" Kurama moaned, attempting to raise his hands to his face. He only managed a few centimeters before his limbs flopped uselessly back into his lap. Panic ensued, and his already labored breathing collapsed into ragged, shallow gasps for air. His lively eyes lost their focus, but not before falling on the glass at his bedside. "Wha--?" he whimpered.

"Shhh…" Shiori continued to fawn over him, "it's okay…" Her eyes glistened, betraying the truth. It was _her_—she was somehow responsible.

Kurama's eyes briefly snapped back into focus. "You…drugged…me…" his speech slurred, but the betrayal in his voice was painfully evident. His eyelids dredged across his orbs once more, scraping away the clarity that had been there only moments earlier. The sorrow remained.

"Shuichi…" The tears spilled from her eyes. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" she cradled his head in her hands and pressed her forehead against his. "You're not sleeping…we didn't know what else to do…I'm—"

"s'o…k…" Kurama's head slumped against his chest in defeat. His eyes blinked slowly twice more, then closed with anti-climatic finality. Kazuya caught Kurama as his body crumpled, his head narrowly avoiding the headboard.

Shiori broke down sobbing. "What have we done?"

Kazuya gently laid Kurama down, adjusting the boy's limp, unresisting form to a more comfortable sleeping position before turning his attention back to his wife. "We did the right thing," he reassured, encircling her in his large arms.

"But…" she wept against his shoulder.

Freeing one arm, but keeping the other wound around Shiori, he reached out and stroked Kurama's hair. "He needs to sleep. So do you." Kazuya smiled at them affectionately. "A good night's sleep will do both of you some good. And then…well, we can cross that bridge tomorrow morning." He rose unexpectedly, "why don't you sleep in here tonight, just in case."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not," he leaned over and planted a tender kiss on her lips. "He's a good boy, Shiori. And tonight, he needs you more than I do."

Shiori's eyes shone with gratitude; Hiei's flared with disgust. She was staying. He had no hope of getting in there now.

"Goodnight, Shiori," Kazuya called from the door as he paused to flip off the lights. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight." Her eyes lingered on the door a moment then fell on her son. "He's good to us, Shuichi," she murmured, caressing her sleeping son's cheek. Repositioning Kurama on his side, she nestled next to him on the small bed, fondly stroking his arm. Her hand hovered uncertainly above his upper arm.

Hiei knew that spot well—Karasu's bombs had torn through Kurama's arm like buckshot through tissue paper, slashing and searing muscle and tendon, exposing and nearly shattering the bone. To this day, they occasionally witnessed Kurama cradling that arm in his other hand, even though his spirit energy had already sufficiently closed the wound. Whether habit or phantom pain, no one knew for sure. Kurama wouldn't speak of it. And no one dared ask. They all had their own wounds to tend…and their own reasons for remaining reticent.

Tentatively, Shiori rested her hand upon Kurama's arm. Her eyes clouded over and an expression of immense sadness dulled her delicate features.

__

She knows.

Hiei frowned. How annoying to get caught up in the trifles and dramas of human affairs. Yet this certainly had been a night full of surprises. Kurama's nightmares. Hiei's presence detected and nearly exposed by the younger Shuichi. Kazuya and Shiori conspiring to drug their son "for his own good." Shiori's knowledge of Kurama's wounds.

But nothing prepared him for the words Shiori uttered next. Words tripping lovingly from her lips, ignorant of their own gravity. Words that—as she laid down next to Kurama and enfolded him in the warmth of her arms—would have made the fox demon's blood run cold. Words which had the ability to stop even Hiei's hardened heart.

"Goodnight, Shuichi," she whispered, kissing his head, "sleep well, my little youko."

* * *

Okay…that's the end of this chapter (finally). Sorry about the funky spacing between paragraphs--I just can't seem to get Word to convert to html correctly. Technology. Go figure.

So…my next question for you all is: do you actually want to _see_ a Kurama's dream or just leave it up to your own devious little minds? I have an idea, but I'd hate to disappoint, suggestions are always welcome, and I could go either way (dream or no dream), really. Remember, I'm shooting for a PG-13, non-yaoi fiction here.

Additionally, anybody interested in beta- reading this as I complete bits and pieces on it? I feel kind of weird just throwing it up here without a proofreader and some feedback.

Thanks!


	3. Visions of Darkness

Okay, okay…I know I've been a very bad writer and have taken a **long **time to update. Sorry. Since this scene wasn't part of my original outline, I had a hard time getting it started. Then I had computer problems. Then my bird died. Then I just got lazy. Bad me.

Thanks for all of the really kind reviews thus far. Special thanks to ButteredOnions who has agreed to be my beta reader. I can't tell you how many grammar/spelling and just-plain-stupid mistakes she caught.

I kind of had to drop the non-yaoi disclaimer because, do you realize how incredibly difficult it is to write Karasu non-yaoi? However, I think I'm still within the PG-13 rating, so I hope I didn't write anything too offensive. Karasu/Kurama scenes are a dime a dozen out there. Some ideas are good, some suck. I went for "different" and hope it doesn't suck.

Disclaimer: When I asked the Magic 8 Ball (boy, am I showing my age or what?) if I owned YYH and/or its characters, it replied "Not a chance." And who am I to argue with the all-knowing, all-powerful Magic 8 Ball?

Enjoy.

* * *

_Faster…faster…he should be able to run faster…why couldn't he gain any speed? His body felt so cumbersome. The ground was thick, slick and spongy, making it difficult to run. There was ground, wasn't there? Why couldn't he see it? And he was tired. So tired. He kicked his right leg forward, willing the reluctant appendage to obey his command, yet straining under the weight. It felt like lead. And the harder he tried to run, the slower he seemed to move. Like running under water. Like drowning._

_As his foot slipped again, he gasped. Heavy, damp air flooded his chest, its wet chill doing little to quench the fiery pain in his over-taxed lungs. Instead, its sudden, cold weight shocked him into convulsive, sharp coughs between greedy gulps for precious air. The sheer force wracked his entire body, causing his eyes to water and bitter bile to flood his parched mouth. He doubled over. Long hair cascaded down his shoulders, drawing a curtain of red velvet across his peripheral vision._

_Hiei blinked. Red hair? Was this a dream? This wasn't his body. It was a human body—that explained a lot about the burdensome lack of speed. And not just any human body. This body belonged to—_

_"Kurama…" The voice drifted liltingly through the darkness—as if carried on the whisper of a non-existent breeze—somehow piercing the thundering roar of the blood rushing through his head. Icy dread clutched at his chest, tearing his heart and sucking the breath from his tightening throat. Rational thought—his own sense of identity—fled Hiei as he found himself caught up in Kurama's unadulterated terror._

_"Kurama…" the voice repeated. Closer._

_Panic propelled him forward again, legs kicking frantically and eyes not daring to look back lest he see the glowing red orbs pursuing him in the darkness...closing in on their prey._

_"Karasu…" he whimpered, forcing the word over the taut knot in his throat. If Karasu caught up to him…_

_Up ahead a faint greenish glow finally caught his eye. Light. Tendrils of light stretched their dim, delicate fingers through the inky darkness, pulling away the shadows and beckoning him forward. If he could just make it to the light…_

_Encouraged, Kurama staggered onward, ignoring the pounding in his head, the groaning protests of his lungs. But his aching body would not be silenced; he only made it a few steps before his leg shrieked in agony and forced him to his knees. He reflexively grabbed the injured limb, the sensation of skin brushing upon the open wound sending another jolt of excruciating pain clawing through him. He screamed._

_Was that his scream? It couldn't have been. It sounded so far away…it barely even sounded human…the cry of a terrified, wounded animal…_

_Blood seeped between his fingers, its sticky wetness drawing him further into the abyss. He felt so light-headed, yet so heavy. Rivulets of scarlet poured from the gash, pooling in murky crimson puddles at his feet, soaking his shoes. No wonder he kept slipping—his shoes were slick with…did he really have that much blood? So much blood. Like a lake. A big, red lake. You could practically float on it. Float…drift…drift to the light. Needed to drift to the light. Had to reach the light…_

_"Kurama…" Closer. This time, he could feel the hot breath beating down the nape of his neck._

_Adrenaline snapped his mind back into focus and pure survival instinct kicked in. He couldn't—he wouldn't—be caught. Kurama scrabbled on all fours…crawling…scratching the ground…anything to get away. He finally regained his feet and began running, this time grateful for the pain each time his foot slapped against the ground and pushed him forward. Pain meant he could still feel—meant he was still alive._

_The light drew closer. Its seductive glow called to him—promising to wrap him in its radiant embrace and melt away the darkness…the fear…the pain. He could already feel its warmth on his clammy skin._

_"Kurama, stop!"_

_Yusuke?_

_"Don't move!"_

_Kurama skidded to a halt. "Why?" He trusted Yusuke with his life. But ordering him to stop…now of all times…_

_"Look!"_

_Blinking his bleary, light-starved eyes, Kurama concentrated his gaze on the alluring greenish glow in front of him. Gradually, his surroundings came into soft focus. He tottered backwards a step, sheer horror gripping his chest as if someone plunged a hand through his torso and was squeezing the life out of his heart. Pain melted into dread…then despair. The weight of his own heart dragged him down, and Kurama slowly sank to his knees. "No…"_

_Before him, a wall of radiant orbs stretched out as far as his eyes could see. Plasma flames licked their smooth curves, creating the illusion of twinkling party lights, winking sly taunts at Kurama's dashed hope. Beyond that…light…the real light. Out of reach. Shadows skittered across the surface, further eclipsing the coveted illumination._

_Icy fingers combed through his hair, then traced further down his spine. Kurama shuddered violently at the chill and the revulsion knotting his stomach. He spun around to face his attacker. Nothing. A cool breeze kissed his cheek-—the air disturbed by something that _had_ been there._

_"Kurama…" The word buzzed in his ear, blowing wisps of his hair. Kurama swung at the voice. His fist met no resistance._

_"Kurama…" Behind him this time. He swung again. Nothing._

_A low chuckle reverberated about him, seeming to change direction every time he snapped around to face it. Each movement taxed his beleaguered body into further exhaustion. Frustration gnawed at the fringes of his mind as he realized how stupid he must look blindly thrashing at nothing._

_"Kurama!" This time, he got a solid lock on the voice. With the skill of hundreds of years, Kurama extracted a rose from his hair, and, in one fluid movement, flung his energy into it while spinning around and lashing out at the voice. As the transforming whip sailed through the air, he realized his mistake and hastily yanked the weapon back to him. The sloppy recall caused the whip to flail out of control, and its tip snapped back against his own face, biting his cheek. But at least it had missed the wall of bombs it had initially headed toward. That had been Yusuke's voice last time._

_Hissing in pain, Kurama dropped the weapon. It transformed back to the lovely rose, which was promptly crushed under the foot of a shiny black leather boot._

_"You've marred your pretty face…"_

_Kurama staggered back—straight into the arms of Karasu. With surprising speed and ferocity, the demon locked one arm around Kurama's waist and jerked the struggling teenager back against his own body. Kurama's hand instantly flew to his neck to protect his throat as he felt Karasu's other hand winding through his hair. Instead of choking the life out of him, Karasu's fingers lightly skimmed Kurama's cheek, wiping away the blood. Petrified green eyes followed the bloody fingers up and over his shoulder, finally gazing upon Karasu's porcelain features. His malevolent, glittering eyes glanced down at his prey. "Hello, Kurama," he purred, licking the blood off his fingertips._

_"Kurama!" Yusuke's voice again._

_Tearing his eyes away from Karasu's magnetic, malignant gaze, Kurama focused on the direction of Yusuke's voice—beyond the wall of flaming orbs. The shadows skipping across the light resolved themselves into the images of his friends, running towards him. Karasu's grip around his waist tightened. The demon twisted his other hand through Kurama's locks and wrenched his head back. Kurama gasped._

_"Wow, Kurama, you're a mess," Kuwabara gaped, stepping into view. The glow of Karasu's bombs danced across Kuwabara's square features, deepening the shadows and making him look positively demonic. "I mean…geez…you're always getting hurt…and you almost blew us all to kingdom come with that little whip stunt of yours a moment ago…"_

_Hot shame rose to Kurama's cheeks. He felt as if his heart would rend in two…Shame, guilt…and…anger. How dare that idiot, of all people, condemn his fighting style and berate him about injuries? He would reach through that wall and throttle his worthless human neck, if he could…_

_Hiei smirked. His mind was beginning to separate from Kurama's. The anger was his own. Kurama still struggled in the throes of pure torment. But the separation was brief. He tried to widen the gap—to reclaim himself—but Hiei felt himself shoved back into Kurama's mind as Karasu yanked Kurama's hair again, jerking his head backwards and straining his neck—nearly to the breaking point. He wheezed for air. "Help me…" he mouthed, unable to produce sound._

_"Help yourself." Hiei felt the mental rift between himself and Kurama expand again as he watched another figure ease out of the darkness and transform from a diaphanous silhouette to a solid mirror image of himself. He looked so…cruel. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. No, he was scowling. Did he always scowl like that? "Carry your own weight."_

_Hiei's heart dropped, feeling the oppressive burden of Kurama's devastation more clearly than anything he had experienced in Kurama's dream thus far. More than that, he was aware of his own intense discontent. He would never say something so spiteful. At least, not to Kurama. To Kuwabara, perhaps. In fact, he was pretty sure he had said that to Kuwabara. If not, he needed to. Stupid human deserved to be taken down a peg…_

_Rising nausea and revulsion pushed those thoughts from his mind, though, as he felt Karasu's spindly fingers splay possessively across his—no, Kurama's—waist, caressing his prize. _Fight back…wake up_…Hiei urged as he felt himself being swallowed once again in wave after wave of crushing emotion.  
Fear…panic…disgust…shame…abandonment…each more intense than the one before it, all churning and bubbling together within him, generating a volatile cocktail that would either explode or poison slowly, consuming them both in this nightmarish existence. Why couldn't he wake up? _Fight back…

__

Maybe somewhere within the dark recesses of Kurama's mind, he was able to hear Hiei, because that's precisely what he did. He was tired of being a victim. His hands abandoned their sentry at his neck and rushed the vice-like grip holding his hair hostage. Scratching, clawing, prying—it did little to break Karasu's iron grasp on his hair, but it did catch him off-guard enough loosen it, enough for Kurama to regain some mobility. The instantaneous relief—the ability to breathe—gave him the small push of energy and adrenaline he desperately needed. With a sharp twist of his neck, Kurama managed to jerk his head free, leaving Karasu with only a few loose strands of red hair in his hand. He would rip out all his hair if necessary. Kurama continued his assault, quickly snapping his head backwards and smashing it into Karasu's face.

Karasu spewed curses as he brought his free hand up to protect his face. Rather than release the struggling boy, he reflexively sunk his claws into Kurama's waist.

Kurama hissed painfully and bit his lip. He refused to give Karasu the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Warm blood flowed freely from the fresh wound. His energy completely spent from his last offensive, his resolve weakening with each drop of blood spilling from the wounds and splattering on the ground at his feet, Kurama's knees buckled. Sheer force of will kept him on his feet, but barely.

No…wake up…fight back…

__

_"Fight back!" Hiei's thoughts audibly echoed through the void. "Damnit, Kurama," Yusuke raged, running into view, "fight back! You're not even trying!"_

_He _was_ trying—couldn't they see that? Kurama pried feebly at the claws digging into his side, unable to get a grip on the slippery, blood-soaked hand. Weariness mounting, Hiei released a frustrated sigh, which translated into an exhausted, choked-off whimper from Kurama._

_"C'mon, Kurama," Yusuke spat, "I can't always save your ass, you know."_

_Stunned into submission, Kurama's momentary hesitation provided Karasu all the opportunity he needed. Lightning-quick fingers flashed and encircled Kurama's neck. Kurama released a strangled yelp as his hands returned to his throat too little too late. "Gotcha," Karasu chortled, lightly tracing his claws along Kurama's jugular before applying pressure against his throat. Using Kurama's entrapped throat and waist as leverage, Karasu began dragging him backwards into the darkness._

_Kurama dug his heels into the ground—he would not go back without a fight. Wasn't he always saying "never corner a wounded animal?" Time to prove why. But his wounds were extensive, and he was already captured, not cornered. His heels continued to slip, despite his best efforts. His lungs burned under the strain of Karasu's slow strangulation—just enough to control, but not enough to kill. Tears flooded his vision._

_Yusuke grumbled disgustedly._

_"You're mine," Karasu purred into Kurama's ear—so close that his lips actually brushed against it. Kurama could feel Karasu's hot breath beating against his face, Karasu's heart beating against his back, both quickening with excitement. Kurama gagged._

_Hiei and Kuwabara turned their backs on Kurama. Hiei cursed his other self's desertion, his anger fueling another—ultimately ineffective—struggle from Kurama to escape Karasu's grasp._

_"See? Even your 'friends' have abandoned you." The slow descent into darkness continued. "Where's the honor in that? Such disloyalty should not go unpunished. Perhaps I'll kill them…yes…I'll kill them all." He leered. "After I've had my fun with you, of course. Let's play, my little fox…" Kurama recoiled in horror as Karasu's tongue cut a wide swath across his cheek, licking the tears off his face. "Mmmm…victory never tasted so sweet…"_

_"Disgusting," a female voice sliced icily through the silence. "Is this what your kind is all about? You disgust me."_

_Kurama's dimming vision flitted in the direction of the voice. His mother now stood with Yusuke, Hiei and Kuwabara. When—how—did she arrive? Her normally kind eyes were cold…unfeeling…her face contorted in a strange mixture of rage and repugnance._

_"Mother…" he plead, extending a trembling hand in her direction, yet knowing he could never reach her across the wall of fire._

_"Don't ever call me that again!" she venomously spat, "Filth! Demon spawn! What did you do to my son? My **real** son!?" Her eyes narrowed cruelly and she nodded at Karasu. "He can have you—he can kill you—for all I care. Had I known what you were, I would have ripped you from my womb with my own bare hands and killed you myself."_

_Numbness enveloped Hiei like a cold, wet blanket. His mind seemed to shut down—overwhelmed, he was simply unable to comprehend and process the torrent of emotions engulfing Kurama. Or perhaps, this, too, was the way Kurama felt. Absolute, undeniable defeat._

_"Her too." The whisper barely cut through the fog enshrouding his mind._

_"Huh?"_

_"Her too," Karasu repeated, oozing malice. "She'll die as well. But, I think I'd like to play with her a bit, too. Make her suffer. In fact, I think I'll keep you alive just long enough to watch."_

_Passionate rage ignited within Kurama once again. So much so that, for a moment, Hiei wondered if his own anger had somehow awoken the wrath of the Dragon of the Darkness Flame, causing it to blaze within his chest, searing his soul from the inside out. He had never known Kurama possessed the capacity for such ferocious vehemence. Kurama always kept it coolly in check, even when his back was against the wall. Even now. Despite the fury burning within him, his posture remained unchanged—passive…beaten._

_He lifted his chin slightly and stared calmly at Yusuke, uttering one simple, solitary word: "Run."_

_Something in Kurama's eyes sparked a look of sheer terror from Yusuke. His face drained completely of color and his eyes went wide with fright. Unaccustomed to the look, Hiei's interest peaked—in his fight with Toguro, Yusuke never looked quite as panicked as he did now. Without another word, Yusuke seized Shiori's wrist and took off running. Kuwabara and his other self followed, beating a hasty retreat._

_"That was foolish now, wasn't it?" Karasu mulled, "they were your only hope. And I was so looking forward to killing them all."_

_Kurama offered no response._

_"I'm disappointed. Have you given up so easily?"_

_"No. Look."_

_A small gasp, then a bemused chuckle escaped Karasu's lips. Thick vines entwined his limbs, firmly binding him to Kurama. The shift in energy had been so subtle…so complex…that Hiei had failed to notice it._

_"Goodbye, Karasu." His complacency unnerved Hiei. Total resignation. Yet a sense of victory at the same time. What was that stupid fox thinking?_

_Roaring defiantly, Kurama launched himself and Karasu at the wall of bombs._

_Pain screamed through his entire body before everything exploded into blinding nothingness._

Hiei awoke with a start, clapping his hand over the Jagan eye, which burned fiercely. Still covered, he could feel it blinking lazily underneath his headband, slowly drawing itself shut. Satisfied it would not cause any more problems, he turned his attention to his stinging, watering eyes and drew his hands across them to rub away the last vestiges of sleep and shield them from the sun's painful glare.

Sun? Glare? Hiei scampered to his feet, cursing. Just how long had he been asleep? More importantly—had he been seen? No, of course not—someone would have raised an alarm upon seeing "the dark man." He was suitably concealed in this tree. It was the reason he liked it so well. Hiei chuckled to himself. Humans—they often missed what was right under their noses, much less noticing what lurked above them. Even Kurama had been unaware of his presence on more than one occasion.

Speaking of Kurama… Hiei hedged closer to the window. Judging by the shadows on the ground, it was nearly mid-day. Kurama was probably already at school. Then again, he may have stayed home for the day, given the previous evening's events. Unlikely—Kurama seemed to enjoy the pointless, mundane tasks of his human existence.

The light shone off the darkened windows of Kurama's room, bouncing Hiei's reflection back to him. He quickly scanned the area to ensure nobody was watching before pressing his hands and face to the window to peer inside.

Sure enough, Kurama was still home. Still in bed, no less, based on the rumpled lump in the middle of it. Hiei snickered softly as he stealthily lifted the window and crept into the dim room. _Lazy fox_. It wasn't often the tables were turned and he had the opportunity to catch Kurama off-guard, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

As soon as his feet hit the floor and his eyes adjusted to the light, however, he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Hiei had his fair share of odd sleeping arrangements and habits, but Kurama's seemed downright bizarre. It looked uncomfortable, to say the least, especially for someone sleeping in an actual bed. Kurama lay face down, his head and shoulders slumped over the side of the bed. The tips of his fingers and the ends of his long hair brushed the carpet, swaying rhythmically with his slow, shallow breathing. His legs and waist were entwined in his twisted bed sheets. Upon closer examination, they were probably holding him in place.

"Kurama." Poke. Poke. Poke. "Kurama. Wake up." No response. Hiei grabbed Kurama's shoulder, jostling him vigorously. "Lazy fox. Get up." Kurama shook limply in his grasp, but did not stir. Odd—Hiei knew Kurama to be a relatively light sleeper. He did not like this one bit.

Seizing Kurama by the back of his pajama shirt, Hiei hefted him back on to the bed. Fortunately, Kurama was built more for speed and agility rather than bulky strength, making his slight frame easy for Hiei to manipulate, despite the height difference.

Hiei rolled Kurama onto his side and frowned. Though normally somewhat fair, the teen's complexion was grim…pasty. Beads of sweat misted his brow, but his skin was cool and clammy to the touch. "Kurama," Hiei prodded again, slapping him lightly on the cheek.

Kurama's eyelids fluttered in response to the touch. His pale lips parted slightly as if to speak, but issued no reply. Hiei could see his eyes rolling back under heavy lids that refused to open and feel faint, fleeting surges of Kurama's energy rippling far below conscious thought. The frown transformed to a scowl. It wasn't that Kurama wouldn't wake—he **couldn't** wake. Some humans had a silly superstition that if they died in their dreams—like hitting the ground in a dream about falling—they would really expire. Absurd. Or was it? Could Kurama's "death" have trapped him in his dream world? Nonsense—Kurama was too smart for such human rubbish. Besides, he had experienced the same thing and woke up fine.

Maybe Genkai would know. Hiei reasoned he could get Kurama to her easily and discreetly enough. Then again…perhaps carrying an unconscious, pajama-clad, half-demon, red-headed teenager through the streets at mid-day was not the best way to avoid attention. He would have to bring Genkai here.

A slam of the door downstairs interrupted Hiei's plotting. One…two…sets of footsteps trudged hurriedly up the steps. "This way, doctor…" Shiori beckoned, her voice tinged with panic.

__

_Damn._ Hiei muttered to himself. No time—he had foolishly closed the window behind him. Shiori and her companion would arrive well before he could retreat, close the window and conceal himself. Eyeing his options, he chose the only available "out."

He dashed into Kurama's closet.

Nestling himself among Kurama's neatly arranged clothing, Hiei cursed his ignoble circumstances. In the cramped hiding space, he deeply drank the heavy scent of roses and fabric softener that lingered on Kurama's clothing, and a dozen other distracting, distasteful, human aromas offensive to his demonic sense of smell. He cracked open the door, bestowing a decent view of the bedroom, as well as the breath of fresh air he desired.

Shiori burst into the room, followed quickly by a portly, middle-aged man carrying a small medical bag. Worry etched deep lines on her face. "Hurry…" she begged, leading him to Kurama's bedside.

Her words confirmed Hiei's suspicions.

"Something's wrong."

* * *

Well, there you have it. Let me know what you think.

The next chapter may take awhile as well, since I'm going to try and simultaneously write a one-shot. Add that to my sloth's pace at updating thus far, and I'll have the next chapter up…hmm…in a very long time. (I'm not stupid enough to promise an actual date, lest you all hold me to it).


	4. The Morning After

I'll keep the notes short, because no one likes to read these things anyway ;)

Happy Birthday to me! Here's my present to you. Don't ask me how old I am--suffice it to say, I'm probably about twice the age of my average reader (if not more).

Wow…I'm so flattered you guys! 45 reviews (for only 3 chapters), and most of them from the same people. I really appreciate it! Especially since I know how easy it is to abandon reading a story when the author is such a slacker and seems to take **forever** to update! I promise I will get this story finished eventually--nothing ticks me off quite like getting into a story and then the author never finishes it, so I promise I'll do my best not to do the same to you all.

Which reminds me--sorry I have not responded to any of the questions posted in the reviews. I keep forgetting to answer them. If you don't want an answer (i.e.: you're just asking a rhetorical question or posting "food for thought")--good! Then I didn't hurt anybody's feelings by not responding. And I'm always open to suggestions. If you do want a genuine answer, though, its best to email me directly. Thanks!

Thanks to Niyali-chan for being my beta reader.

Continuity note: After starting to watch Chapter Black on Cartoon Network, I realized Kurama's mother didn't remarry between the Dark Tournament and Chapter Black sagas (which is when I set this story). Heck, for all I know (which is, admittedly, very little), Kurama's stepfather could be a real jerk, too. It kind of irks me to be out of step with the canon, but…can we all just file this factoid under "artistic license" rather than "author too lazy to change it?" ;) Thanks!

Disclaimer: My Magic 8 Ball still says its not mine. Damn…

* * *

"Well…let's see what we have here…"

"I appreciate you coming, Dr. Tsunoda," Shiori stammered, lingering nervously by the door, "I must have caused quite a stir banging on your door like that."

"Not a problem," the doctor breezily assured her as he circled Kurama's bed and set his bag on the floor. "We're neighbors, after all. You're lucky you caught me when you did--I was just on my way out the door to go to work."

Hiei held his breath as Tsunoda passed his hiding spot. Apprehension gave way to annoyance as the man sat on the edge of the bed--that tubby bastard was blocking his view. Thankfully, it was only momentary as the doctor shifted Kurama's dead weight to the center of the bed, re-establishing Hiei's view of the fox demon.

"Oh!…I…"

"Don't apologize."

"But--"

"I won't be late. I was going in early to catch up on some paperwork. This is more important. Hmmm…a little help here?" He gently nudged Shiori, sensing her anxiety and trying to shake her from her helpless stupor. It worked. Shiori quit her nervous pacing and joined the doctor at her son's bedside, assisting him in untangling Kurama from his sheets. She sat opposite the doctor, which blocked Hiei's view…again.

Grumbling silently to himself, Hiei navigated the cramped closet space to adjust his view. He nearly stumbled over Kurama's shoes, but seized a fistful of hanging shirts, using them as leverage to regain his wobbly balance. He glared at the big, clumsy human shoes as if they had intentionally tripped him and could perceive his aggravation. What was the point to such clunky footwear, anyway? And these damn shirts--how many did Kurama _really _need? Hiei made a mental note to tell Kurama his closet needed cleaning…badly.

"He's so pale…" Shiori fretted, drawing Hiei's attention back to the matter at hand. She stroked Kurama's cheek.

"Mmm…hmmm…" Dr. Tsunoda mulled, palming Kurama's forehead. He popped open his bag and pulled out a small, L-shaped instrument, inserting the short end of it into Kurama's ear. A small click as he pulled the trigger-like button…a soft beep…the doctor checked the digital display. "No fever…a little low, in fact, but nothing too discouraging." _A thermometer_. Hiei was used to seeing the glass cylinders with the shiny liquid mercury inside. He never could understand why humans would willingly stick toxic metal into their mouths with only a thin--and easily breakable--tube of glass protecting them.

Tsunoda set the thermometer back in the bag and pulled a penlight out of his shirt pocket. Peeling open one of Kurama's eyes with his fingers, he pulsed the light several times. From his vantage point in the closet, Hiei could barely see the whites of Kurama's eyes, much less their usual glassy green luminescence or any indication of what Tsunoda was looking for. On the third or fourth flash, Kurama suddenly jerked his head away, softly moaning in protest.

"Shuichi?" Shiori asked, squeezing his hand.

Kurama sighed lightly in response as his head lolled off to the side once again. His fingers curled slightly around hers before going limp. "Shuichi? Please sweetie…wake up," she implored.

With a patient, reassuring smile, Tsunoda pried Kurama's hand out of his mother's. He held Kurama's wrist by two fingers while watching the time tick by on his watch. A full minute passed in maddening silence--a _very long_ minute for a cramped, cranky fire demon lurking in the closet.

Silently, he laid Kurama's hand down across his stomach, and Dr. Tsunoda began rummaging through his bag again. "Shiori…that issue you and Hatanaka raised at dinner a few nights ago…has it gotten any better?"

Shiori's eyes fell.

"I see…" he hedged, obviously betting ready to broach a delicate subject. "And the prescription I have you…did you…?"

She nodded. "Last night."

He nodded sympathetically. "It's for the best. I know you both were adverse to the idea, and you weren't sure how receptive he'd be, but I'm glad Shuichi--"

"He didn't know," she muttered softly.

"What?"

"He didn't know," she repeated a bit louder, red creeping into her cheeks. "Kazuya slipped it into a glass of juice." Her eyes drifted guiltily to the empty glass still perched on Kurama's nightstand.

If the doctor disapproved, he certainly didn't show it. "I see…" Hiei snorted. "I see" apparently meant Tsunoda didn't know what to say but felt the need to say something useless rather than let awkward silence reign. **He** would have simply told Shiori how stupid and foolish they had been. Kurama deserved better than such childish coddling and deception.

"It's just that--" she stammered.

"No. No need to explain," the doctor cut her off with a dismissive wave, finally producing the instrument for which he had been rummaging. "What time did he take it?" he continued, slipping the stethoscope around his neck.

"He took them around ten, I guess."

Dr. Tsunoda's brow furrowed as he checked his watch. "It's well after noon…" He paused, a sudden flash of insight illuminating his features. "Wait…did you say _them_?"

Shiori gaped at him quizzically. "Yes…?"

"How many?" he pressed.

"Two…" her voice faltered even more as realization started to sink in.

The thin veneer of Tsunoda's patient, professional façade cracked, now revealing an extremely concerned family friend. "Damn…one…only one…" He frowned. "Any vomiting?" he fired the question at her, his abruptness catching her slightly off-guard. "Vomiting?" he repeated, more urgently. She nodded no. "Good. Seizures?" Again, no. His eyes bored into her. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

Shiori nodded numbly. "I was with him all night." She blinked rapidly, tears welling in her eyes. "It's my fault…it's all my fault…" she whimpered.

"It's okay…it's okay…" Tsunoda tried to assure her, realizing he had crossed the line and upset Shiori more than was necessary. "They were mild sedatives. He should be okay." His voice had a wary--cautious--edge to it. He threaded the stethoscope into his ears. "But let's have a listen, just in case, okay?" Reaching to unbutton Kurama's shirt, he registered genuine surprise--shock, even--as Shiori's hands intercepted his with viper-like speed.

"Wait…" she stammered, wavering under Tsunoda's questioning stare. "It's…well…it's just that Shuichi is…he's so private…modest…Certainly you understand…"

The doctor chuckled, sincerely amused and peeled his hands away from hers. "Boys his age can be that way. But, really, Shiori--I'm a professional. It's not like it's anything I haven't seen before."

__

_I'll bet it isn't._ Hiei sneered from his hiding spot. By the time Karasu had finished with him, Kurama's torso looked like raw, chopped meat. Or so Hiei had heard--he wasn't actually awake when they assessed the damage and dressed Kurama's wounds. But he knew the recollection of the image produced an eerie, uncharacteristic pensiveness in Yusuke and clouded the teen's eyes. Kind of similar to the look in Shiori's eyes now. Had she seen it too?

"Shiori, _please_," the doctor urged, sounding more serious and slightly exasperated as he placed his hand reassuringly over hers. "We're talking a probable overdose here. We don't have time to argue over Shuichi's modesty."

Reluctantly, Shiori released the fabric she clutched protectively. She nervously bit her lip as Tsunoda unbuttoned and smoothed open Kurama's shirt.

Hiei hissed appreciatively. Kurama's skin was smooth. _Completely healed._ From where he sat, Hiei couldn't even see the faintest trace of scarring, even with his razor-sharp demon eyesight. The "lazy fox" hadn't been as lazy as Hiei presumed--obviously he had been spending a lot of time and energy healing himself in the past few weeks. Such significant healing in such a short period of time took talent. And came at a high price. Combined with his exhaustion from the tournament, the extensive nature of his wounds and his apparent insomnia since, it was no wonder Kurama was tired and unable to wake from his drug-induced slumber. It was nothing short of a miracle he was able to function at all.

Even Shiori seemed astonished as she traced a finger along the thin, protruding line of Kurama's collarbone.

"Something wrong?" the doctor asked, placing his stethoscope against Kurama's chest.

"Huh? Oh…um…no…it's nothing."

Dr. Tsunoda nodded distractedly, listening to several more areas on Kurama's torso rather than Shiori's answer. He reached under Kurama's shoulder and hoisted him into a sitting position. Shiori caught her son across the chest as his head and shoulders slumped forward, threatening to topple him over. The stethoscope snaked under the back of Kurama's pajamas, padding across his skin several times before Tsunoda eased him back down on the bed. He placed the instrument in the center of Kurama's chest again, his brow furrowing slightly.

Now it was Shiori's turn to ask: "Is something wrong?"

"Well…" he removed the stethoscope from his ears, "his breathing is ok--a bit more shallow than I would prefer--but steady. However, his heart--" Shiori blanched. "I'm sure its nothing to worry about," Tsunoda quickly interjected, "but there's a slight…irregularity. It's beating strong--which is good," Hiei noted the emphasis on "good" as the doctor scrambled to ease Shiori's concern, "but…well…uneven. It's steady, but the cadence is slightly 'off'… if that makes any sense to you. I've never heard anything like it."

"Oh?" Shiori seemed to relax a bit, but Hiei still sensed an edge in her voice. "Like a heart murmur?"

"Almost…but not quite. You've heard it, I take it?"

Shiori forced a knowing smile. "Well, 'heart murmur' is what his pediatricians called it when they couldn't find any other explanation. He's had it since birth."

"I see." Hiei clenched his jaw at the utterance of that tiresome phrase. "And they didn't want to study it further?"

"Of course they did. But it really wasn't affecting his health any, and I didn't want Shuichi spending his childhood in and out of hospitals to satisfy their curiosity--"

"But it's really an odd rhythm, Shiori. Almost…well..._not human_… Have you ever heard a dog's heartbeat?"

Apprehension momentarily flashed across Shiori's eyes. "No…we didn't keep animals when I was young. And Shuichi never expressed an interest in pets--only plants," she recovered quickly--_perhaps a talent she picked up from her son? Or vice versa?_ "Besides," Shiori busied herself re-buttoning Kurama's shirt to conceal the slight shaking of her hands, "it improved as he got older. It really has evened out…"

Hiei snickered. He always knew Kurama's heart would eventually betray him--just as it had betrayed Hiei when they first conspired to steal the Artifacts of Darkness. However, this wasn't quite how he envisioned it would happen--the human heart inside the demon should have been his downfall, not the demon heart inside the human. The irony was delicious. Or would have been, had not some other nagging feeling been tugging on the fringes of his conscience.

"Okay, then. If you don't think it's anything to be overly concerned about, then we probably don't need to bring him in. As I said earlier, it looks like an overdose. Next time one pill. Only one."

"There won't be a next time."

"Never say never," Dr. Tsunoda smiled patronizingly. "Anyway, the sedatives were fairly mild, as sedatives go, and it has been awhile, so he should be alright. I think it will be ok to let him sleep it off. Just in case, though…" he held up the stethoscope for Shiori to see, then deliberately set it on Kurama's nightstand, "I'm sure you know how this works. Check on him at least every 30 minutes. If anything changes--his breathing becomes shallow, his heart speeds up or slows down--or if he starts having seizures or vomiting, I want you to get him to the hospital immediately. Call an ambulance, then call me, ok?"

Shiori nodded obediently as the doctor packed his bag and rose to leave. "I think he'll be okay. You did the right thing," he repeated, smiling warmly at Shiori and gently ruffling Kurama's hair. As an afterthought, Dr. Tsunoda adjusted Kurama to a side-sleeping position and pulled the covers up around the sleeping teenager. "Make sure Shuichi sleeps on his side, in case he does start throwing up. He will probably still be pretty groggy when he wakes--possibly a bit nauseated, achy and complaining of a monstrous headache. Plenty of fluids--water, juice, no soda. And see that he eats something. A bland diet is best until his stomach settles. I'll be by later tonight to check on him, alright?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'll see myself out."

"No…I'll see you out. It's the least I can do," Shiori rose, taking the doctor politely by the arm and escorting him into the hallway.

"That won't be necessary…" His mild protests and resulting murmured reassurances from Shiori followed the two of them down the stairs as they left.

Like a rabbit sprung from a trap, Hiei bolted from the cramped, stuffy closet. A slight tingling in his left leg erupted into full-blown pins-and-needles, causing his leg to buckle under the uncomfortable prickling pain. Hiei glared menacingly at the closet, as if it had intentionally attacked and had been responsible for his leg falling asleep. Next time he was hiding under the bed. No…next time they could just deal with his presence. Let Kurama explain it. Stupid fox…this was all his fault anyway. If he'd clean out his closet once in awhile…

Still grumbling to himself, Hiei limped over to Kurama's bed, muttering curses with each tentative, tingly step. He looked down on the sleeping teenager. Kurama looked almost peaceful. A quick energy scan convinced Hiei that he was, in fact, sleeping peacefully for the first time since Hiei's arrival last night. No spikes of energy from a tormented psyche plagued by horrific nightmares. No rippling undercurrents of a tired mind struggling for consciousness against a body that would not wake. Even the color was beginning to return to his pallid cheeks. Meanwhile, Hiei gingerly hopped on and off his left foot, waiting for the stabbing pain to subside.

"Wake up," Hiei growled, wanting to impart some of his suffering onto Kurama. No answer. He grabbed Kurama's shoulder and shook it. "Wake up," he repeated impatiently. Still no answer.

Disgusted, Hiei turned to leave. He'd have to chastise Kurama another day. He only made it three steps before a low, pained moan emanated from Kurama's bed. Glancing over his shoulder, Hiei noticed Kurama had rolled over onto his stomach. He trudged back to the bed and pushed Kurama back onto his side. His efforts were met with a sloppy, weak swat at his hand.

"Go 'way…" Kurama groaned, burying his face in his pillow and attempting to roll back onto his stomach.

"You need to stay on your side," Hiei instructed gruffly, trying not to sound too concerned (but sounding much harsher than he would have preferred) as he shoved Kurama back again.

"Quit 't…" Kurama resisted, compelling Hiei to drop his center of gravity and put more force behind his push.

"Quit being so stubborn," Hiei snapped. He was practically nose to nose with Kurama when the smallest sliver of glittering green peeked out from under heavy eyelids and locked on him.

"Hiei?" Kurama slurred and furrowed his brow as if trying to comprehend the sight before him, not sure if he was still dreaming. "What're you doin'…?"

The second time the question was asked, it was a shrill, panicked female voice piercing the room.

"_What are you doing to my son_?"


	5. Confrontation

Okay, you guys, I have been a _very bad _author. I actually had most of this chapter written nearly two months ago, but then I just sat on it, then the holidays came, then my beta reader had computer problems and exams, etc. etc…

Speaking of, thanks to ButteredOnions for being my beta reader.

For those of you who have stuck with me, thanks much. For the rest of you…well, you're not reading this so it doesn't matter. :)

Feedback and reviews are always appreciated, but if you want questions answered or a personal response, please send me an email.

Now…I've taken up enough of your time and I have a plane to catch tomorrow (and still much packing to do), so on with the story…

* * *

Hiei froze. Of all the compromising positions in which he had found himself in his lifetime, this had to be one of the most precarious. Not because of any actual danger to himself-though a lack of danger failed to prevent his heart from skipping a few beats-but because of the potential consequences. Most humans-he had thought Kurama's human mother was no exception-lived in blissful ignorance of the demons that occasionally wandered into their realm, trying to upset the balance, destroy/devour them or otherwise wreak havoc on their fragile little lives. This particular encounter was awkward, to say the least, potentially dangerous to Shiori's frail human psyche, at most.

Glass exploded against the wall near Hiei's head, showering him with a spray of hot water and hundreds of tiny ceramic shards. On second thought, perhaps it was more dangerous for _him_ at this point.

"Get away from him," Shiori screamed, her face contorted with fear and fury. She snatched the empty glass on Kurama's nightstand-having already thrown the mug of tea she had carried in with her-and pitched it at the small fire demon with unexpected accuracy and speed.

Hiei deftly leapt back to avoid the glass as it shattered at his feet. Instinctively he reached for his katana, but thought twice, re-sheathing the deadly weapon. Only a few months ago, he would have drawn the sword and swiftly lobbed off her head without a second thought. Kurama wouldn't like that. And an angry Kurama was something with which Hiei did **not** want to reckon. Maybe his time among humans had its advantages, after all.

The glimmer of the weapon did not escape Shiori's eyes. Her face drained of all color and she took a hesitant half-step backwards, obviously torn between her instinct to flee for her own life and her instinct to protect the life of her child.

Kurama decided for her. "S'ok…" he murmured, vainly struggling to get out of bed before the situation escalated. "'s Hiei…." He managed to get one leg over the side of the bed, but then swooned, threatening to fall face-down on the floor.

Shiori let out a yelp and dashed forward to reach her son, but Hiei knew she'd never make it in time. He flew forward, catching Kurama mid-fall-and only centimeters away from landing on his head in the splintered glass Shiori had shattered moments earlier. Hiei winced inwardly. If Shiori entertained any small hope that Hiei might actually be human, his little display of lightening speed just dispelled it.

Kurama leaned his head against Hiei's shoulder. He tensed under the weight. Not because Kurama was heavy…it was just so…awkward…undignified…for both of them. Neither was the "touchy-feely" type-and certainly not with each other. Hiei could feel Kurama's frustration seething just below the surface while at the same time groping for a dignified solution to his dilemma. "So tired…" Kurama whimpered bitterly.

"Yes…I noticed…" Hiei dryly responded, blowing away wisps of red fluff that were tickling his face.

Kurama's weak grip encircled Hiei's upper arms. His arms trembled with effort as he attempted to push himself off of Hiei. Resisting the effort to assist him, Hiei remained motionless-he sensed Kurama wanted to-no _needed_ to-do this on his own. Surprisingly, he mustered enough strength to do so, but then Hiei noticed that Kurama had unsolicited help. Shiori had stepped forward and clutched her son's shoulders, gently drawing him back to where she kneeled on his bed. Kurama was asleep again by the time his head hit her shoulder. She protectively wrapped her arms around him-cradling him-as she kept a wary, nervous eye on Hiei, particularly his crimson eyes. He met her gaze for a moment, then broke away, looking for something interesting on the floor at which he could stare instead. Nothing but broken glass. He'd have to feign interest in _something_. Anything to escape that probing, motherly gaze.

"Thank you," Shiori finally mumbled, glancing away.

"Hn…" was the only response Hiei could muster, thrusting his hands into the folds of his robes. When he looked up, Shiori was staring at him again. Her eyes quickly cut away.

Hiei wondered if this might be the opportune time to exit, before Shiori could find her voice and scream. Or worse, start pestering him with questions. He couldn't exit the way he came. That would raise even more questions. Then again…he couldn't exactly exit out the front door, either. The few times he had visited Kurama, he had never actually gone beyond Kurama's bedroom. He wouldn't know how to find his way out of the house. So he stood in place, rooted by indecision.

"Hiei…you're Hiei…" Shiori's soft, solemn voice shattered the stillness. _Too late. Stuck now…_

Hiei blinked back mild surprise. She'd heard of him. "Yes." He answered simply-deliberately-hoping that was the end of the conversation.

It wasn't. "Shuichi told me about you," she stated tentatively, as if she weren't sure she was talking to the proper person.

"Did he?" Hiei tried not to sound too patronizing or elusive, but he had to tread carefully. Somehow, he doubted that "Shuichi" turned to his mother one day and said "So, Mom…I have this friend Hiei. By the way, he's a fire-demon who would just as soon kill you as look at you, but I think you'll really like him." He needed to know what Kurama told his mother. As much as he hated to admit it, he could use Kurama's…_help_.

"Yes…" Shiori plowed forward with the conversation, oblivious to Hiei's evasiveness. Or perhaps she was so wrapped up in her own nervousness that she felt compelled to prattle on, lest the stony glare of his fiery red eyes scorch her soul. "I saved all of his letters-"

"Letters?"

"Yes. While you were all on your trip together, Shuichi wrote home every couple of days…"

Letters. "Do you mean to tell me that when we were shipped to that desolate, forsaken hell-hole and forced to compete to the death in a tournament-fighting for our very _lives_-'Shuichi' was writing letters to his mommy!" At least, that's what he wanted to say. What actually came out was: "I see." Hiei cringed as the specter of Dr. Tsunoda's boring conversational habits temporarily possessed him.

Some of Shiori's uneasiness lessened and her eyes sparkled as she recollected the letters. ("They were nothing fancy-just little notes jotted on plain paper…") almost as if they were priceless treasures rather than the quickly scribbled letters Hiei assumed them to be. Humans were so easily distracted by sentimentality.

Grudgingly, Hiei had to admit that if he were Kurama, he probably would have written home, too.

"…he always wrote how much he missed me…"

If anything, to reassure her that he was ok.

"…and how much he loved me…"

Even if it was a lie.

"…which is why I knew something was wrong."

His focus snapped back to Shiori's conversation. "Oh?"

Shiori's eyes brimmed with tears and she pulled Kurama into a tighter embrace. "It was like he was dying and trying to find a way to say goodbye. I mean, really…what fifteen year-old actually tells his mother that he loves her?"

"One that nearly lost his mother not that long ago."

A small smile tugged on the corners of Shiori's mouth, causing Hiei to inwardly congratulate himself on his answer. It was the kind of answer Kurama himself would have given. She was staring at him again. "You're not what I expected, Hiei."

"Really?" He did his best, but couldn't contain his sarcasm this time.

She didn't seem to notice. "I expected someone…"

"Human?"

"Taller."

Oops.

Shiori paled slightly, but forced an affable smile. "Well…yes…that too." She absentmindedly ran her fingers through Kurama's hair. "And the others?"

"Others?" Hiei cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Yusuke, Kuwabara…are they like you?"

"Don't insult me," Hiei snapped, snorting derisively. Seeing her suddenly taken aback, he softened his tone slightly. "They're human," he grudgingly offered.

Her hand stopped stroking her son's hair and hovered over his head. "But Shuichi isn't, is he?"

Hiei held his tongue. There was no good answer to this question. He would not lie to this woman-his honor forbid it. And it was not his place to reveal Kurama's secret, destroying the carefully woven web of deceit he had constructed in order to protect his life and the lives of those he loved the most. Yet, Hiei knew his silence as an answer in itself, and he mentally reproached himself for not being more quick-witted and clever like Kurama.

"It's ok-you don't have to answer," Shiori retracted.

"They why bother me with the question?" Hiei peevishly retorted.

Shiori just shrugged ruefully in response, finally laying Kurama back down. "I suppose I just wanted to hear it. To know for sure."

"Do you?" he challenged.

Shiori did not answer.

"Then ask _him_," Hiei hedged toward the window, plotting his longed-for escape.

"I can't."

Perching on the windowsill, Hiei delayed his retreat a bit longer-a decision, he acknowledged, he'd probably regret later. But, once again, curiosity won him over. Humans were so foolish-creating complex dramas out of relatively simple dilemmas. _Ask him._ It was an easy enough solution to the problem-to _everyone's_ problems. "Why not?"

A distant, contemplative look washed over her features, and a sad, fragile smile flitted briefly across her lips. It was a look he had seen on Kurama's face many times. _He looks so much like her._ He was surprised that he'd never really noticed it before.

"Perhaps you're right-I don't really want to know," she sighed. "And it's not my place to pry."

"I thought it was human nature to pry," Hiei cracked. "At least, it is of the humans _I_ know."

His dry wit failed to shake her solemnity-another annoying habit characteristic of Kurama. Whenever he was mulling over something, virtually nothing short of the apocalypse would break his concentration until he had reached a conclusion satisfactory to whatever strange hierarchical thought process inhabited his hybrid mind.

"I don't pretend to know why he won't tell me," Shiori continued, "I've asked myself hundreds of times. Is it fear? Shame? Guilt?" She nearly choked out the last word as if it were the most difficult option for her to fathom.

Even Hiei had qualms about the last possibility. "Guilt?" Guilt hardly fazed a youko-much less one as old, experienced-not to mention temperamental-as Yoko Kurama.

"The child…the child he replaced…" Shiori swallowed hard and held back tears, dreading the answer to the question she was about to ask, "did…did he…?"

"He did not kill the child," Hiei answered quickly, finally understanding her concerns. "From what I understand-what he has told others-he merged with the human fetus before it acquired a proper soul."

"I see." The relief in her voice was evident. "Maybe he's just uncomfortable."

"With you?" Hiei raised an eyebrow. "Unlikely."

"With me…with himself, mostly. With what he is…what he _was_…what he has become…what will become of him. I don't know. To a certain extent, I guess its something we all go through as we grow up and try to find ourselves. Only, more so with Shuichi. And you probably know my Shuichi well enough to know that he has to over-analyze something from every angle before he's ready to tackle it." Her voice dropped slightly. "Besides, if he's that uncomfortable with himself, who am I to confront him and force an issue he's not ready to face?"

"How long have you known?"

"Since I was pregnant with him."

Hiei blinked in surprise. "How?"

"A mother always knows." She smiled mysteriously.

"I wouldn't know." A slight sneer curled his lip despite his best attempt to control the bitterness creeping into his voice.

"Oh," Shiori uttered, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Pity. How he despised pity. And from a _human_, no less. Kurama's mother or not, he was going to tell this inferior creature what she could do-

"Did she die while you were young?"

Concern. Genuine concern. Simple…non-patronizing…if just a bit naïve. "Hn. Something like that." Not a lie, exactly, but not quite the truth either. This woman was likeable enough. Hiei didn't want to burden her-shatter her obtuse human innocence-with his sordid past. Besides, it was not something he cared to discuss with _anyone_. Yet he still felt the lure…the attraction…of telling Kurama's mother. Like he could tell her everything without being judged. And if she said "I understand" (even if she didn't), somehow, that would make it slightly better. Was this how she tamed him? Conquered the infamous temper of Yoko Kurama? Simply by being…_nice_? "Explain."

"Huh?"

"Explain how 'a mother always knows.'"

Shiori bit the corner of her lip, smiling slightly. "It's hard to explain…well, not hard, just…it'd take a while to explain. And you seem to be in a hurry to leave." She nodded slyly at the window to which Hiei had been creeping since the start of their conversation.

Hiei smirked. She was toying with him now. She had intentionally piqued his curiosity so he would stay, and as she explained her story, she, no doubt, would be prying the information she wanted from him. It was a dirty trick. Worthy of Kurama's intellect. Befitting his "mother." He would have to be on his guard with this woman.

"I have time," Hiei replied, accepting the unspoken challenge and feigning nonchalance. He settled comfortably into the windowsill.

"Tell me."


	6. Conversation

Wow…I didn't mean to go so long without updating this story. Sorry! But, in my defense, I did work on another one-shot and I've been dealing with a sudden relocation to a new city and state.

Thanks for all the reviews--especially from those who have stuck with this story since the beginning, despite the fact that it seems to be taking me **_forever_** to write! I love getting all the reviews in my inbox--because I'm needy and desperate that way, I suppose. :)

Special thanks to ButteredOnions for being my loyal beta reader through my procrastination and then my nagging to "hurry up and finish reading it" when I finally do get part of it completed.

I'll be offline and unemployed for awhile, so hopefully I'll have time to work on the next chapter. This story really only has one or two more chapters to go.

I've got an idea for a post-anime/manga fic rolling around in my head and another YYHxYGO thought, but I haven't seen the end of the anime yet to decide whether either is feasible. So if there's anybody out there who's seen the end of the story and is willing to let me pick their brains a bit, let me know. Thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

"Before I begin, there's something I need to know…"

Here it comes…

"What is his real name?"

"His real name?" Hiei repeated, stalling for time while contemplating his answer. "You named him, you should know -- Minamino Shuichi." True enough, it was Kurama's human name, and he hoped the slight affected edge of contempt in his voice was enough to get her to drop the subject.

Just as he suspected (dreaded, actually), Shiori wasn't buying it. "His demon name," she pressed, sidestepping his evasiveness.

Hiei frowned. "I've already said too much." He crossed his arms defensively. "It's not my place to tell." Resolute bluntness was called for with this woman--or he'd be tricked again.

"Oh…of course…I understand…" she demurred. Hiei cringed, feeling a slight twinge of…guilt? Had he been too harsh? An awkward silence settled between them, but Shiori suddenly brightened. "You know, I heard it once before, I think. Kuwabara--that's the one with the orange hair, right? Or is Kuwabara the dark haired boy? They've only stopped by our house once or twice. Kuwabara--maybe it was Yusuke--stopped by our house to see my Shuichi. Only he called him something else--I almost missed it. Then he got all flustered, corrected himself and asked for 'Shuichi.' He seems nice. They must be good friends. In fact, Kuwabara seems a lot like--"

"Kurama is nothing like that idiot," Hiei snapped, interrupting Shiori's obnoxious prattling.

Shiori's eyes glinted mischievously.

Damn.

"Kurama…" the word rolled off her tongue with a slight dreaminess to it. "Yes, that was it. Kurama…"

"You're good," Hiei grumbled grudgingly, "for a human."

"What is he?" she mused, not hearing (actually--Hiei realized--more likely ignoring) his backhanded compliment.

"You're supposed to be answering _my _questions," he impatiently huffed.

"You haven't actually asked any," she smiled wryly, her lips curling the same way Kurama's did when he knew he had the upper hand in a situation.

"Fine," he snipped, barely containing the snarl in his voice. He was not in the mood to play games. His sleep last night had been…less than restful. "How did you know?"

"Know what exactly?"

"That you were pregnant with a demon child."

"Ah…it started with the light. Then the pain."

Hiei blinked. "Light? Pain?" The answer was vague--and unexpected. Kurama was sketchy with the details when it came to his human conception. Hiei assumed he just didn't remember it all that well. He would finally have some answers about which even Kurama was uncertain. This pleased him.

"About four months into my pregnancy, I was walking through the park and watching the children play on the playground. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. When I looked up, there was this bright blue flash of light--like ball lightening--headed straight toward me. I must have blacked out briefly because I don't remember getting hit by it. And no one else recalled seeing anything except me passing out. All I remember was the pain. It was awful--like someone was repeatedly stabbing me in the stomach." She clutched her stomach, as if she could feel the pain fresh in her mind after all these years. "I called my husband--sobbing--and he rushed home to get me to the hospital…"

"Pain is not normal?" Hiei had heard that human childbirth was very unpleasant.

"Not usually. Not this early. Oh sure, there's minor aches and pains, swelling, morning sickness…"

"Sounds painful to me."

"It's wonderful, really."

"Sounds disgusting."

Shiori stifled a snicker. She was laughing at him! "If you say so. Anyway, unable to give me anything for the pain and without any evidence of trauma, they decided to run an ultrasound…just to check things out. It was then that the strangest thing happened--"

Hiei imagined she saw Kurama's ears, or tail, or some other demonic anomaly manifest itself on the human host body.

"He turned and looked--no, stared--at the monitor."

"That's it?" How disappointing. He still didn't see her reasoning from random fetal movement to demon spawn. Even Kurama would have trouble making that leap of logic.

"You don't understand. At four months, a fetus is…maybe about ten centimeters…and not very mobile. It was like he was studying us in the same way we were studying him. I could _feel_ it. And those eyes…they were so _cold._"

That sounded more like the Yoko Kurama he knew. Cold eyes. Not some nondescript, ten centimeter, lump of human flesh that might have happened to face the monitor.

"Then the nightmares started."

"Nightmares?"

"Running…always running. But not fast enough. And there was so much blood--_my _blood. And pain. I just knew I was going to die. I wasn't ready. It was so vivid, I usually woke up screaming by that point, and I could still feel the lingering pain. It worried my husband to no end."

"Did you tell him?

"I always told him it was just another nightmare. Hormones. Nothing to worry about…just like Shuichi always tells me." She shook her head incredulously as the thought--and the irony of it--dawned upon her.

"Once," she continued, "once I saw myself in a reflection of something I was carrying. I don't remember what it was--maybe a mirror, maybe a jewel, maybe a weapon--but it was shiny--" she broke off, hesitant to continue.

"And?"

"I saw those eyes again--those cold, cold eyes." She involuntarily shuddered. "They were gold, I think. His ears…they were pointed and on top of his head. And he had long hair--beautiful long hair. It was white…maybe silver. It was hard to see it in the reflection." Her voice was tinged with awe, yet more than anything, an undercurrent of fear ran through it. Hiei could appreciate that. He had been…impressed…the first time he had seen--and felt--Kurama manifest his full demonic form. The sight in itself was striking, but the energy crackling off of him was simply beyond belief. "I can see that face as clearly in my mind now as if he were standing right in front of me. I just knew it was _him_, and I don't think I've ever been so afraid in my life as I was looking at that reflection. Not because I was afraid of dying in my dream again, but because I was afraid of _him_. Afraid of my own child--what he would be, what he would to do me once I brought him into this world. For weeks, I considered terminating the pregnancy, that image haunted me so…that silver hair…those cold eyes…"

"So I imagine you were relieved when he was born," Hiei snorted, "Ten fingers, ten toes, green eyes, red hair, no ears, no tail and all…"

"Something like that…wait…he has a _tail_?"

"Nevermind."

"Is that…is that what he really looks like?" She glanced from Hiei to Kurama, trying to reconcile the terrifying mental image with that of the young man sleeping peacefully before her.

"For someone who seemed so convinced that you knew what he was last night, you ask a lot of questions."

"Last night?"

"Last night, when you--" he abruptly cut himself off, but the damage was already done.

Her eyes widened questioningly, then narrowed suspiciously. "You've been spying on us…"

The color rose to Hiei's cheeks. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid! Again! What he wouldn't have given to possess the ability to disappear at will, like some demons he knew. Just disappear--let Kurama sort out the mess afterwards. It was his fault anyway.

"Don't deny it, I can see it in your eyes."

Humans could be so smug when they had the upper hand. Hiei didn't dare look at her. He could imagine the fury--the arrogance--in her stare. Despite the fact that he was a deadly demon who could swiftly end her life with little more than a snap of his fingers, he had sunken to the depth of voyeur in her eyes.

"_You're_ Shuichi's 'dark man.'"

"Hn." He sneered, chancing a glance her way. Instead of smug accusation, he saw her studying him with curiosity and relief. "I thought perhaps Shuichi was imagining things. Or worse, we had a prowler." Didn't she comprehend Hiei was infinitely more dangerous than some pithy prowler? He didn't think his ego could suffer much more abuse from this stupid woman.

Her eyes twinkled mirthfully. "There's a door, you know."

A sudden gasp and a whimper from Kurama kept him from lashing out at Shiori. Barely.

"Sweetie?" She immediately turned her attention on Kurama, all further conversation about "the dark man" abandoned.

"Mom…no…" A solitary tear escaped beneath Kurama's closed eyes, which she quickly blotted away. "Shhh…I'm right here," she purred.

Hiei contemplated using the Jagan eye to peer into the depths of Kurama's psyche while his mother tended to him. But the risks of getting caught by Shiori--or worse, Kurama--outweighed the benefits of another glimpse into his dreaming mind. After a few fitful moments, Kurama settled down again.

When Shiori finally spoke, her voice resonated with immeasurable sadness. "He never cried."

"Excuse me?"

"As a baby, he never cried. Not when he was hungry, not when he needed to be changed, not when he was tired. At first, we thought he was deaf. But the doctors assured us his hearing was fine. I would have given _anything_ to hear that sound…to know what he needed. And now…"

"And now what?"

"He cries. Never in front of me, of course. In his sleep. Occasionally in the shower when the pain is too much. He cries, and I _still_ don't know what he needs." Her eyes searched his imploringly. No small feat--even Yusuke rarely dared to look Hiei directly in the eyes for any length of time. "I saw the wounds--Shuichi doesn't know I saw them, obviously--and I see it in your eyes. What happened to you boys?"

"None of your business," Hiei snapped. "_I_ don't need anything." His defensive walls went up so fast, he was surprised she wasn't knocked backwards by the sheer force of his mental energy. "Tend to your son, but leave me out of it. What makes you think I need anything?"

"Intuition."

"Intuition? Most humans aren't psychic. You're no exception or I would have sensed it by now," he snidely jabbed.

"_Mother's _intuition," she clarified.

"There's no such thing," he sneered.

"You're not a parent. You don't understand." She sounded slightly stung at his rebuff, yet condescending at the same time.

Hiei scowled. "You're right. Just like I don't understand how you reached the conclusion that you have given birth to a demon child. I've heard nothing that would have convinced me had I been in your place."

"It's the little things that don't add up. The small, everyday occurrences that don't seem…normal. You just _know_ these things. It's that special bond between a parent and child--that intrinsic, invisible thread that connects a mother to her son on the most fundamental level. He never spoke the words, but he 'told' me in so many other ways. You'll understand when you have children of your own." There wasn't a trace of anger, hurt or sanctimony in her voice this time. Just a gentle rebuff that, for all her explanations, she knew she would never make him fully comprehend. Kurama often took that same tone of voice with him when explaining why he chose to stay in the human world.

"Children? Me? Not likely." Hiei scoffed.

"They say that when a child dies, his mother feels it." She clutched her breast. "I felt it. Here. A few days before he came home. It was the most awful, empty feeling in the world. Like my heart stopped and a piece of me died." Silent tears formed in the corner of her eyes. "I was watching TV and I felt it. I knew he was gone. And I thought I heard him whisper 'mom' in my ear." She quickly dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "He called a few hours later to say he'd be home soon. But…he died, didn't he?"

"Kurama did not die." It wasn't a lie, exactly, but not quite the truth either. Truth be told, Hiei didn't really know. Kurama certainly appeared to have died during his fight with Karasu, but nobody was close enough to him in the ring to confirm it. And then he was on his feet. And he never spoke of it since.

"Kurama did not die, but did Shuichi?"

He didn't know what she wanted to hear. Was she seeking reassurance? Or validation of that "special bond" justifying that her knowledge of Kurama was fact and not some by-product of her imagination? "Shuichi is Kurama. So, no. Shuichi--nor Kurama--died."

"Hmmm?" Kurama spoke from the depths of his sleep, having possibly heard his name batted around one too many times and trying to answer whomever was talking to him.

Hiei froze. He was sure his face mirrored the somewhat shocked and panic-stricken expression on Shiori's face. And she was not the only one watching him. Kurama blinked lazily at him from underneath his tousled bangs. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. Seeing, but perhaps not comprehending.

"Hiei…"

Perhaps not.

"Shhh….dun' wake m' mom….k?" he slurred sleepily.

"Sure." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Good," Kurama sighed, closing his eyes once more.

They waited in silence a few tense moments to ensure he had gone back to sleep. "This isn't a good place to talk," Shiori whispered.

"You think?" Hiei quipped.

"Come with me," she beckoned to Hiei to follow as she made her way toward the door. "We can continue this conversation downstairs."

"I'll pass." Hiei settled into the windowsill and crossed his arms.

Shiori held the door open for him, ignoring his remark. "Besides, you look like you could use a good meal."

She did her best to hide her small smile of triumph as Hiei obediently followed her to the door, the promise of a "good meal" too tempting for even him to pass up.

Boys--even demon ones--would be boys, after all.

* * *

He hadn't meant to linger. It was just that he had never actually been outside of Kurama's room before, much less downstairs. Standing on the staircase, he had been confronted with the relics of Kurama's human life. Pictures. Rows of pictures lining the wall, depicting his human existence. School photos. Vacation pictures at the beach. Family portraits--mostly of Kurama and his mother. It seemed surreal to him--he always _knew _ Kurama lived a droll, human existence, but he never really _knew_ it. It was a phantom existence on the periphery of Hiei's perception. Nothing more than a quaint story Kurama spun for his amusement. The Kurama Hiei knew was a legendary bandit, ferocious fighter, skilled botanist possessing an unfathomable intellect…not this wide-eyed schoolboy vacantly peering back at him from behind a glass frame. But even in those stilted photos, profound depth and a painful self-awareness shone in those lucid green eyes and the mysterious smile tugging at his lips.

Shiori waited at the bottom of the stairs, patiently obliging Hiei's curiosity as he examined the pictures. He had nearly reached her when a particular portrait caught his eye, stopping him dead in his tracks. Another family portrait. Of three.

"His father?"

Shiori craned her neck to see which photo Hiei was studying. "Yes…that's my late husband. Shuichi's father."

In it, Kurama couldn't have been more than four or five years old, sitting in his mother's lap with a handsome (well, handsome for a human, anyway) man in his mid-thirties standing behind them. _So that's where he gets his red hair from,_ Hiei mused. When he had first met Kurama, he figured the red hair was a by-product of his demonic fox aura. Until he learned that Yoko Kurama was a rare silver fox. The red hair--the fiery brand he so prominently displayed, came from his human father. It was his homage to his human father, not his demonic heritage. And his eyes…so much like Kurama's…such depth…such knowledge…"He knew."

Shiori joined Hiei on the stairs to gaze upon the photo. "He knew." She repeated. "I think he suspected something from the beginning--with the nightmares. But I finally told him after Shuichi was born. I was afraid he'd make me give up the baby. He said he understood. And he knew. He never said how, just that he did."

"And your current husband?"

"Also knows," she answered quietly. "His son, however, does not. He idolizes his older brother, but he is too young to understand."

Hiei sniffed. Apparently Kurama wasn't the only one keeping secrets from family members. They were also so busy keeping secrets from each other that it was a wonder they functioned normally at all. Not that he was in a position to criticize, really. _Yukina_.

Tracing her finger lovingly along the frame, Shiori swept away a thin layer of dust. "This picture was taken shortly before he died. We always knew _what _Shuichi was--"

"--a demon."

She nodded. "Yes. But it wasn't until his father died that I truly knew _who_ Shuichi was."

"Who?"

"_My son._"

_

* * *

_

_Faces. A sea of blank faces passing in front of her. Sympathetic. Sad. Concerned. But not one really distinct from the on that preceded it. She knew these people, yet didn't know them. Relatives…friends…neighbors…so close, yet so far…separated from her by the vast gulf that was her grief._

_Another face, another bow, another sympathetic touch. And another voice. Dim echoes…"I'm sorry," "My condolences," "If there's anything I can do," "he was a good man…" Wave upon wave of hollow voices full of hollow sentiments falling upon the deaf ears of a hollow heart._

_Until the one voice--the one she was not meant to hear--wafted to her ears and set her brain on fire. "Where's that odd little child of theirs?"_

_The sea parted. Faces and voices slowly blossomed into reality. "Odd child…" she murmured, barely audible even to herself._

_"What, dear?" A wrinkled little hand fell comfortingly on hers as she turned her leaden head towards the crisp, aged voice. Her neighbor. Kneeling next to her. That bright voice…that kindly, old face brought her world back into sharp focus._

_The flowers. The memorial. The mourners. All rushed her senses with such overwhelming intensity that she had to blink several times to fight off the dizziness. So many people. So many people in their little home. So many people cared. So many people shared her loss. But she couldn't see the one who shared it with her most intimately._

_"Where's Shuichi?"_

_"Eh? Shuichi?" The wizened little face glanced around the room. "I think he went upstairs. Would you like me to fetch him for you? He should be down here. Such disrespect in children these days," she tutted._

_"No…thank you, I'll go." She tottered to her feet, her knees cracking and her numb legs prickling painfully from sitting in the same position for far too long. A firm hand steadied her and she smiled gratefully at the man--someone she did not recognize…one of her husband's co-workers, perhaps?--before gently shaking him off and padding to the stairs._

_As she climbed the steps, she felt some of her heavy loss dissolve a bit with the voices melting away downstairs. Each soft footfall in the thick, plushy carpet cushioned the weighty trudging of her tired limbs, providing a spongy, springy rebound that propelled her upward. Every step lightening the burden of her soul as it brought her closer to her comfort--her child. Small as the comfort was. Shuichi was not just young, but so painfully aloof, and it broke her heart that he just couldn't seem to open up to her._

_Finally she reached her destination. Three soft raps on the door. The muted click of the twisting door knob releasing the latch. Soft, musically creaking hinges as she cracked open the door and peered inside. "Shuichi?"_

_Amid the silence that greeted her, she thought she heard a sniffle. "Shuichi?" she called again, stepping lightly into the room and closing the door behind her._

_It was empty. She glanced around again, just be sure and walked a few steps further into the room. Her knee buckled slightly as a sharp pain stabbed at her foot. Drawing her stocking-clad foot back up, she noticed the brightly colored plastic strewn across the floor. Another broken toy. It had been a little, hand-held electronic game her husband had given Shuichi a few weeks ago. One of those virtual pet games. The pet "died" last week. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the tiny screws all lined in a row and the little pieces arranged by size and color. Not broken…_disassembled. _But he couldn't get the pieces back together again._

_Another soft sniffle, magnified tenfold by motherly instinct, reached her ears. Immediately, she pinpointed the source--the closet._

_"Shuichi?" she cooed, opening the door slowly, so as not to frighten him._

_Startled green eyes locked on to hers briefly before disappearing with a soft whoosh under tumbling red locks as he buried his head in his knees. Shuichi sat at the bottom of his closet, knees pulled tightly to his chest, his knuckles white with the effort._

_"Come out, sweetie," she coaxed, kneeling down and reaching in to stroke his hair. The soft strands slid easily through her fingers, and she reminded herself that Shuichi needed a haircut. His hair grew so fast._

_Her entreaty was met with a shake of his head and more muted sniffles. He trembled slightly. Was he…_crying_? "Oh…Shuichi…"_

_A sudden flash of red…the rustle of disturbed clothing…and a force hitting her so hard it almost knocked her over. But she still caught her son as he flung himself into her arms. Her arms encircled his shaking body, pulling him into a tight embrace as he buried his head against her shoulder and sobbed piteously. He _was _crying. It was the most heartbreaking--yet welcome--sound she had ever heard from him. "Shh…shh…" she rocked him gently, ignoring the discomfort as his tiny hands clutched and clawed at her back and his torrent of tears soaked through her blouse._

_"It's ok…it's ok…" she reassured him, hugging him tightly and nuzzling her cheek against his head. "Everything's going to be ok…you'll be alright…"_

_And for the first time, she actually believed it._

* * *

Okey-dokey. There you have it. Please R&R if you'd like. My fragile little ego can't handle flames, though. 


	7. Breakfast of Champions

Well, I actually started this back in early December with the intention of making it a "Christmas/New Year's Present" of sorts. Then it got pushed back because of new computer glitches, lack of feedback and a few other issues, so I was going to make it a "Happy Valentine's Day" present. Then the beta reads came back and I realized I still had a lot of work to do. So…um…Happy St. Patrick's Day?

Thanks to the Niyali-chan half of "ButteredOnions" for being my beta reader and picking up a lot of stupid mistakes, as always. Also thanks to "Uncle" for being a back-up beta reader and catching a lot of grammar/style problems (he's not even a member of the fandom, so he _really _had his work cut out for him).

Also, thanks to all the readers/reviewers who have really stuck with this story—I know it's been a long time coming to get to this point. Oddly enough, this story was formulated from start to finish when I posted the first chapter, so it really shouldn't have taken me this long to write it. But I've added and subtracted a lot of elements along the way, so maybe (hopefully?) it's worth it. Thank you guys so much for the feedback!

* * *

The modest kitchen was larger than Hiei imagined it would be, given the relatively small size of the home. Of course, with the whole city as his "home," and the nearest warehouse, construction project, abandoned building or secluded tree as his bedroom, he supposed anything would seem small in comparison.

A shrill whistle turned him with a start. Shiori was making tea. Hiei understood little about human food preparation, nor did he really care to learn. For him, the next meal was whatever wasn't fast enough to avoid the business end of his sword. Occasionally, Kurama would track him down and bring him a burger and fries or something. As far as Hiei was concerned, the "meat" tasted greasy, grisly and thoroughly unpalatable, and the fizzy, overly sweet drink made him gassy. But he was not one to turn down a free meal. Kurama would usually stick around and eat with him. He was a real pain like that.

Clattering cups drew his attention from his thoughts back to Shiori. The whistle earlier meant that the water was ready—that much Hiei knew. Curiosity got the better of him, and he tried to keep an eye on her preparations. With her back towards him, he had to lean sideways for a better view, noting her movements with more interest than he probably would have cared to admit. Each cup received a pour of hot water and a few loose tea leaves, but he couldn't see much more than that. Sensing she was being watched, she glanced over her shoulder and nodded at him. Hiei quickly straightened and dropped his gaze to his feet, feigning disinterest. _Oh yeah…oops. _He realized he had once again failed to remove his shoes inside the house (about which Kurama always nagged him), and he shifted his eyes and pretended to take interest in something outside the kitchen window before she noticed.

"Don't worry about the shoes," Shiori smiled wryly as she set the tea in front of him.

Hiei wasn't listening—something _had_ captured his interest. Not outside the window, but inside on the windowsill.

"Oh, that?" Shiori commented, following his gaze. "That white orchid has seen better days." Leaving her tea on the table next to his, she padded back over to the stove. Hiei assumed that meant she would be eating too. Like mother, like son. How annoying.

"You should see it when it's in bloom. It's really beautiful. My husband gave it to me when I was pregnant with Shuichi. During my pregnancy, I had a knack for gardening--my husband joked that I had become a 'fertility goddess'—"

Hiei cringed. Human pet names were so stupid. Besides, that was a mental image he did _not_ need.

"—but after Shuichi was born…well, taking care of a baby and all…I didn't have the time. And then when my husband passed away, I couldn't bear to throw it out."

"It seems to be doing well now," Hiei commented, hoping to put an end to the conversation. Botany was Kurama's thing—not his.

"Well, yes, since Shuichi started taking care of it a few years ago. His talents seem to pick up where mine left off. But it hasn't been doing so well recently…even his own red orchid isn't doing that well…but his is still so gorgeous, isn't it?"

_This_ was what had drawn Hiei's attention. He wondered if Shiori truly had any concept of what sat on her windowsill. A demon blood orchid. An exceptionally rare flower which was notoriously difficult to cultivate on the demon plane—much less the human one. Its vibrant red bloom was rumored to be a euphoria-inducing aphrodisiac, though Hiei put little stock in such foolish folklore. He doubted Kurama needed such an exquisite and labor-intensive plant for that purpose, either—he hardly seemed the type. From more reputable sources, Hiei had heard that when the orchid's glossy, needle-like leaves were dried out, they could be ground down to create a powder which was then used in minute applications to brew a powerful antibiotic. In larger doses, the powder fashioned a potent poison solution, causing the unfortunate victim to hemorrhage from virtually every orifice—hence the name. Either concoction required a tremendous amount of precision and patience, and very few accomplished mastery of one, much less both. Hiei suspected Kurama was very adept at making both solutions. Suddenly, he had a much greater appreciation for the salve Kurama kept plying on them during the Dark Tournament.

The satisfying smell of a prepared meal wafted to Hiei's nostrils long before the bowls were placed in front of him. "I'm sorry it's not much," Shiori apologized, "just some miso soup and rice. I didn't think Shuichi would be able to stomach much after last night, and I wasn't counting on company this afternoon." She set some western-style utensils in front of Hiei, casting him a side-long glance as if to question his ability to use them. He defiantly snatched the spoon, murmured a half-hearted…something…maybe it was a "thanks"…and began slurping at the soup. Satisfied that he possessed at least rudimentary knowledge of basic table manners, Shiori returned to the stove to dish out her own meal. Hiei was too busy eating to be insulted.

As she sat down beside him at the table, Hiei caught his first glimpse of the scars on her arms. They were old—just as Kurama said. But judging by the width and thickness of the dark and jagged healed-over skin, the wounds had been deep—deeper than Hiei had presumed. Kurama had not mentioned that.

Hiei tore his gaze away from the scars as she tugged on the sleeves of her sweater to cover them. A subconscious habit, perhaps, but he still did not wish to appear as if he were gawking. His eyes cut away only to fall upon another reminder of that near-tragic day.

Blood. On the floor. Years of cleaning, scouring and bleaching could not hide the sordid stain from his demon sight. He wondered if Kurama—with his human eyes—saw the stain as clearly. Of course he did…Kurama only _looked_ human. Although he had not fully recovered his demon form or mastered transformation to his "true" self, he was more demonic than he cared to admit. Every time he entered this room, he saw it. The blood.

A constant reminder of her sacrifice for him—the sacrifice that inexplicably tied Kurama to her…to this world. The sacrifice Kurama had repaid with his own blood—his own soul, even. And, still, he would not leave. He _wanted_ to stay. Hiei would not—_could_ not—understand such devotion.

Hiei absently stirred his soup. He blinked into the swirling, milky broth, watching the tofu and various vegetables bob casually in the wake created by his spoon.

"There was a tournament." The words spilled from his mouth before he had time to stop them. Only, it didn't sound like him—the voice sounded so far away. Almost as if someone else were speaking through him. Almost as if the story had a life of its own, begging to be heard, no matter who was betrayed in the process. "Participation wasn't optional—declining the invitation was a death sentence. I believe Kurama—like Yusuke and Kuwabara—had been informed that if he failed to appear, they would destroy everything he loved first, before killing him. They would have murdered you before his eyes…and only afterward taken his life."

Shiori stifled a gasp behind her hand, but, wisely, did not speak—as if speaking would somehow break the spell and cause Hiei to fall silent. But her eyes begged for him to elaborate.

"It was not the first time your life was threatened," he obliged, "nor will it be the last. Coercion, cunning and strength rule most of the demon plane—not mercy nor regard for others' lives. At least, _most_ of the time." He seemed on the verge of adding further explanation to that statement, but decided not to elaborate.

Fearing Hiei was about to end his story as he got lost in his own thought, she ventured to speak. "But why you? Why Shuichi? Why now?"

Hiei snorted, hardly believing how far he had strayed from his inherent nature to land among such dubious allies. "Our association with Yusuke drew their attention."

"Yusuke? How so?"

"He is the 'spirit detective.' It's his job to track down and eliminate demon threats in the human world. Kur—I mean, Shuichi—and I were one of his early cases, but since then, we have…assisted…him on several occasions." He said the last part as if the mere thought of it disgusted him. Before Shiori could speak, Hiei held up his hand and answered the question he already knew she would ask. "Kurama's reasons for helping him are to protect his new life—and you. My reasons are my own, so don't ask."

"I see." That particular question died on her lips, but more remained etched upon her delicate features. "I just never imagined…"

"You look at me as if you can't believe your son is an able fighter or capable of violence, yet you know what he once was. I can tell you from experience that he is not any less capable nor merciless—you said you even felt it yourself when pregnant with him. Only now, he is more reluctant. No…I guess it's more reflective. He can be just as relentless, but he won't make brash, unwise judgments. Unless he's backed into a corner."

"A corner like a threat against me. Like the tournament."

"We were the 'sacrificial lambs'—sent to be eliminated as threats to demons living here and to satisfy their bloodlust. Fights were expected to be 'to the death.' No one expected any of us to survive, much less all of us." He smirked smugly with self-satisfaction, took a sip of his tea, and finished the rest of his soup.

"But Shuichi _did_ die, if only briefly."

Hiei sputtered. How did she know? Fortunately, what came out of his mouth was: "What makes you say that?"

"I felt it." Her eyes clouded over and welled with tears. "At first, I wasn't sure, but now…I know that's what I felt. Don't try to deny it—"she cut him off even as he opened his mouth to speak. "It was almost like a dream. At first, I thought it _was_ a dream because I was lying in bed, getting ready to go to sleep. I heard him scream. Then I heard him call out to me. I felt such pain and despair—like I was feeling the world through his senses—then this crushing emptiness and sense of loss I knew was my own. In that brief moment, I knew he was gone. I was in such a daze, I hardly remember the next few hours until he telephoned to say he'd be home soon."

Hiei drained the dregs of his tea and stared into his empty cup. "I won't deny it. Even I wasn't sure…until now." They fell silent, staring numbly into their empty dishes as the feelings of loss seemed to encompass them all over again.

"Who?" Her whisper barely registered through the emotional fog enveloping his brain.

"What?"

"Who? Who killed my baby? I have to know." Her entreaty caught him off guard for a moment.

"Karasu." The mere mention of that name added a deathly chill to the silence. "He didn't just kill him…he tortured him." Hiei didn't know why he felt compelled to reveal that, and he instantly regretted it. But when he glanced up to look at Shiori, she was not horror stricken by the knowledge. Instead, she seemed almost at peace with it.

"I see."

"Technically, though, I suppose you could say Kurama sacrificed himself in order to ensure his death wasn't in vain. He used the last of his life energy to kill Karasu and force the match to a draw rather than allow Karasu to win. That would have bought the rest of us one more chance to save our own lives, if we needed it. He's noble—and stupid—like that. It wasn't the first time."

"I know."

Hiei smiled to himself as Shiori cleared the dishes off the table. "Hn…I might have guessed you knew somehow."

"The Forlorn Hope. You'd be surprised what you hear—and what you remember—when lying unconscious in a hospital bed." She smiled warmly, setting a fresh cup of tea in front of him. "I would have stopped him if I could have."

"You couldn't. He's stubborn, too."

"More so than you?"

Hiei smirked and sipped his tea, almost forgetting that he was not supposed to be enjoying this. She was an interesting woman…for a human.

The most grating, obnoxious sound to Hiei's ears pierced the serenity, "like nails on a chalkboard," and sent Shiori scurrying to the front door:

"KURAAA—ow! What the hell'd you do that for, Urameshi? Huh?...oh…yeah…MINAMEEE—"

"Hello, boys," Hiei heard Shiori's muffled greeting as she opened the door to let them in, effectively silencing Kuwabara's insufferable voice.

Fortunately, Yusuke possessed more social grace. He exchanged some pleasantries with Shiori, explained that they had stopped by "Shuichi's" school to say hello, but were told he wasn't there…blah, blah, blah. Hiei really wasn't listening. He was too busy sulking about the intrusion.

"Shouldn't you boys still be in school?" Shiori's voice drew closer as she led the new arrivals to the kitchen.

Yusuke scratched his head nervously and scrambled for an answer. "Well…um…you see…there was a water main break and they sent us home early…"

"You used that one last time," Kuwabara hissed into his ear.

"That was _your_ mom…" Yusuke snarled.

"I can hear you…which means_ she_ can hear you. And she's not stupid," Hiei spat.

"Wha--? Hiei!" Yusuke exclaimed, entering the kitchen and spying the fire demon for the first time.

"What are you doing here, shorty?" Kuwabara demanded, then suddenly remembering he was in the presence of Kurama's mother, "I mean…uh…hey, Hiei! How's it going?"

"Just sit down before you make an even bigger fool of yourself," Hiei sighed, rolling his eyes.

Glaring and grumbling, Kuwabara flopped into the nearest chair. Shiori's eyes sparkled with amusement. She placed a new kettle of water on the stove and excused herself to go upstairs—presumably to check on Kurama.

"Seriously Hiei," Yusuke lowered his voice as he spun a chair around and straddled it, "what _are_ you doing here?"

"Same as you, I suppose," he muttered.

"Huh, I doubt that," Kuwabara sneered, crossing his arms and continuing to mope.

"Hn…you're probably right. I doubt my reasons for being here are anything like whatever idiotic excuse your feeble brain could muster."

"Hey!" Kuwabara exploded out of his chair.

"Try it," Hiei growled, rising to his feet.

"Cool it. Both of you," Yusuke calmly ordered. Something in his demeanor immediately diffused the situation, compelling both of them to sit down again.

"So why are you here?" Hiei cocked an eyebrow at Yusuke.

"Hm…" Yusuke mused, biting the corner of his lip. He leaned back and scratched his head again. He looked to Kuwabara, then to Hiei, back to Kuwabara and began fidgeting under their expectant stares. "You know…I really don't know. It just seemed like a good idea, I guess."

"Yeah—skipping school was a great idea." It was Kuwabara's turn to roll his eyes. "Good way to further our academic careers."

"You still came." Yusuke smiled roguishly.

"He's starting to stir," Shiori announced her return, abruptly ending their conversation. "He asked me if we had anything for breakfast and then rolled over and went back to sleep." There was noticeable relief in her voice. "Would you boys like a cup of tea?" The cups were out and she had already started to pour the water before they could respond.

"Yes, please," Yusuke and Kuwabara politely answered in unison.

Steaming cups of tea appeared in front of them moments later. "Thanks," they both chimed in stereo again.

Awkward silence reigned for a few minutes. No one dared speak for fear of breaking the tranquility or bringing up an uncomfortable subject.

"Could you boys do me a favor?" Shiori asked. The "boys" exchanged wary glances, waiting in anticipation. "I have a few things I need to pick up from the store. Would you mind waiting here until I get back?"

"Uh…yeah…sure." Yusuke answered for all of them.

It was the perfect excuse, Hiei realized. Shiori knew exactly what she was doing. This gave them the opportunity to talk freely among themselves while ensuring someone remained in the house to keep an eye on Kurama so she could run some errands.

"I won't be long. Promise." She gathered her purse and keys and headed for the door. On the way out, she paused briefly, taking in the scene in her kitchen and smiling. At least Shuichi had friends to get him through this. That was good to know.

"I've only met her once or twice, but she seems really nice," Yusuke commented, hearing the door close behind her.

"And pretty," Kuwabara added, "I mean…for a mom and all." He flushed.

"And smart," Hiei added, taking a sip of his fresh tea.

"How so?" Yusuke asked.

Hiei slyly peered at them over the rim of his cup, drinking in their reactions. "She knows."


End file.
